


The Butterfly Effect

by RiseRaptureRise



Series: The Plague of Rapture [2]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), BioShock Infinite, Bioshock Burial at Sea, Burial at Sea - Fandom
Genre: A LOT of Character Death, ADAM use, Alcohol Abuse, Bad Decisions, BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea, Character Death, Death, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, It's Bioshock, M/M, Multi, PTSD, Rapture (BioShock), Serial Killer, Shellshock, Splicer clowns, The end has come and I'm not afraid, bioshock ADAM, everyone is dead dave, maybe a little afraid, on the fence if those choices are good or not, we all make choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 159,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseRaptureRise/pseuds/RiseRaptureRise
Summary: Emilie Lokken, on the run from Ryan Security with her son Clayton, is thankfully saved and taken in by this mysterious and supposedly heroic, Irish revolutionary, Atlas.Tensions are rising in Rapture by the day and tough choices will have to be made, testing her beliefs, morals and ethics. She's always thought of herself as a survivor, but Rapture is not a kind place and Emilie will learn that every choice and action has a consequence.Part three: The Ocean on his Shoulders
Series: The Plague of Rapture [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670662
Comments: 13
Kudos: 12





	1. Class

_O’Riley,_  
  
_Never learn:_  
  
_Another war! Another goddamn war! When will these people learn? I guess it’s time to pick sides… well given how your fair city has treated me, Mister Ryan, I can assure you, I will not be standing shoulder to shoulder with you._

* * *

  
_“Goooood morning Rapture! Hope you’re all having a fantastic start to your day, say Mary, you’re looking positively radiant today. Did you do something different with your hair?”_  
  
_“No John, I went to see Doctor Steinman, Rapture’s most renowned plastic surgeon. Need a quick fix? Swing by his practice in the medical pavilion, Steinman’s aesthetic ideals! With his skills anyone can be beautiful.”_  
  
_“I would never have guessed, there’s not a mark to be found!”_  
  
_“That’s right John, not a scar in sight, that’s the Steinman way! Steinman’s aesthetic ideals, bringing beauty to everyo-.”_  
  
Clayton jumped as a bullet destroyed the radio they were walking past. He clung to his mother tightly and stared at the guy who seemed just as surprised as Clayton was. The bottles that the radio had been standing next to were pristine, while the radio was spitting out sparks and seemed to be giving off some kind of white noise.  
  
They’d managed to get to Hestia Chambers, Limey and this… Atlas had lead them through some secret passages that the poor had built. Apparently when you screwed over a bunch of builders and workman, they had a tendency to screw you over in return. For example, making secret passage ways across Rapture so they could move around undetected. It also meant they didn’t have to pay at any of the checkpoints or pay to get into Arcadia and the Famers Market.  
  
A group of Atlas’s followers were with them, carrying their own backpacks, but they were setting them down at tables which had food and blankets on them. Clayton watched as they stuffed five blankets and five bags of food into the packs, before turning and leaving once again.  
  
_“I’m Atlas and I aim to keep you alive.”_  
  
The words rang through Clayton’s head and he stared at the man in question. He could only see the back of him as he lead them through to an area that hadn’t been taken by someone yet. A few of the people smiled at Atlas and thanked him as he passed, they even thanked his Mama when they recognised who she was. Em had worked here after all, keeping everything going so they wouldn’t loose heat.  
  
Atlas stopped and gestured to two beds, one that happened to be near a round window and smiled at them.  
  
“I know it’s not much,” he said. “But it’s all we got to spare. You’ve done a lot for us ya’self Ms Lokken,” he rested his hands on his hips. “Why, the folk round here took to callin’ you Hestia.”  
  
“Hestia?” She frowned a little, Clayton clung to her legs staring up at Atlas with big brown eyes.  
  
For some reason the man seemed familiar to him, but a total stranger at the same time. He felt like he’d seen him before, but that was silly. He hadn’t seen Atlas before, he’d only just heard about him few days ago and now here they were standing in front of him. Maybe he’d seen him before he’d become Atlas, but that didn’t make any sense because no one seemed to know where Atlas had come from, only that he had risen up when the people needed him.  
  
_“Never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves…”_  
  
Fontaine’s words whispered in his head and the boy found himself squinting at Atlas. Judging and studying him. Atlas took notice of this and raised an eyebrow at the boy, offering him a bemused smile.  
  
“Somethin’ wrong lad?”  
  
“Who are you?” Clayton asked, pulling away from his mother and walking up to this stranger and not stranger. “Atlas isn’t your name. Not your real name.”  
  
“Work that out ya’self didya?” Atlas winked at him. “Atlas is the broad back ain’t he? The man who takes the world on his shoulders? Well, isn’t that your Ma or any of us? We do all this fine work and look what we’ve got to show for it,” he gestured around him. “Ryan _lured_ us here with promises and has he delivered?”  
  
“That wasn’t the answer to the question,” Clayton said and his mother looked shocked. He’d always been the quiet little boy who watched and studied. He still was and he had questions. Things weren’t adding up. “Where did you come from?”  
  
Atlas looked amused and knelt down to his height. “Ireland, lad, but if ya’ meanin’ where in Rapture. I was down by the docks, a fisherman fer a time. Then I ended up loosin’ me job when I challenged how much pay I was earnin’,” he tilted his head looking Clayton over. “You ask a lot of questions, lad.”  
  
“Someone once told me to never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves,” Clayton bit his lip and reached for his watch, fiddling with it nervously. “He was one of the smartest people I knew…”  
  
“So you’ve taken what he said as gospel, I see,” Atlas nodded his head. “Well, it’s not the worst advice someone couldda given ya’. There are plenty o’ people I’d say that piece of advice applies to. Andrew Ryan bein’ one of many, but me? I’m just like you,” he placed a hand on his chest. “I see that I’m gonna have to earn your trust and that’s just fine. It’s a foolish man that blindly follows without askin’ the right questions,” he held his hand out to Clayton. “So it seems we may have started out on the wrong foot, lad. So, let’s start again. Me name’s Atlas and you are…?”  
  
Clayton studied him, looked all over his face and down at his hand, before looking back at his face again. He still couldn’t place him, but he was certain he knew him. He was certain that he’d seen Atlas before, but he knew he hand’t. It was confusing and making Clayton’s head hurt.  
  
He looked down at the hand extended towards him again, looked up at the kind face and smile, before hesitantly reaching forward and shaking Atlas’s hand.  
  
“I’m Clayton… Clayton Lokken.”  
  
“It’s very good to meet ya’ Master Lokken.”  
  
“Just… Clayton..” The boy frowned. “Ryan called me Master Lokken I… I don’t want to-.”  
  
“Say no more lad,” he placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little. “Clayton it is. It’s a good name, suits ya’ I’d say,” Atlas’s eyes flickered down at Clayton’s watch and he raised an eyebrow. “Say now, ya’ watch is lookin’ a little worse for wear there. Ya’ want me to get one of the lads to look at it? We got a watch maker ‘round here somewhere…”  
  
“No!” Clayton covered the watch with his hand and backed up. “No, I- I like it like this.. It’s all I’ve got left!”  
  
Atlas looked a little stunned and held his hands up non threateningly. “I’m sorry boyo, I was just tryna’ help…”  
  
“Help them!” Clayton snapped pointing outside and rushing to his mother, hiding behind her legs.  
  
Em gently brushed his hair and looked up at Atlas apologetically. “The watch is important to him…” Em said softly. “It’s best to leave it alone.”  
  
“I noticed, luv,” Atlas smiled at Clayton, though it was a little sadder than before. “Well,” he clapped his hands. “I’ll leave ya’ to get settled in. If ya need anythin’ be sure to stop by me office or ya can ask the young lass out there, ‘er names Molly. Been wit’ me since the start. She’s a hard worker and a kind soul, she’ll help ya’ out with anythin’ you need.”  
  
“Thank you,” Em smiled at him, ushering Clayton towards the beds. “Thank you so much, I.. I think we would’ve died if you’d not-.”  
  
“Your shoulder’s bleedin’ luv,” Atlas interrupted her. He turned to Limey who was still with them. “Limey darlin’ would ya be able to grab us some medical supplies?”  
  
Limey narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, probably because Atlas had called her ‘darlin’, Clayton thought as he sat down next to his Mama on the bed. Still, Limey nodded and disappeared out of the room.  
  
“Can’t believe I forgot about that,” Em mumbled undoing the top few buttons of her shirt so she could look at the injury. “I couldn’t feel it anymore.”  
  
“Pain does tend ta fade in time,” Atlas nodded, kneeling down in front of her and looking it over. “But ya’ lucky. Looks like it went straight through,” he looked at Clayton with concern. “How ‘bout you, lad? How’s ya’ neck? That splicer had you in a tight grip.”  
  
Clayton rubbed at his neck a moment, shrugging at him. “It’s okay. Just bruised… I’ll be fine.”  
  
Atlas looked up at Em with an amused smile. “He always this stubborn?”  
  
“Takes after his mother,” Em said, pulling Clayton close and he hugged her around the middle, his eyes never leaving Atlas. The boy was determined to watch his every move. “Bone in the nose…” she looked down at him, smiling fondly. “Don’t you?”  
  
“Some call it stubbornness,” he mumbled.  
  
“Oh, so what would you call it?” She asked looking amused.  
  
Clayton shrugged. “Toughness.”  
  
Atlas and Em chuckled softly, Em stroking her son’s hair. Despite everything that had happened he seemed okay. He was probably in a bad mood because he was still grieving. Fontaine was dead…  
  
Her happy look left her face and she frowned at the ground. She couldn’t believe that Fontaine was dead. All this time, she figured that he’d be around forever. That he would be running Rapture and that it would be Andrew Ryan who’d be either dead or long forgotten. Never Fontaine.  
  
“Søntos?” She said softly, sitting him up. “What’s in the box Bill gave you?”  
  
Clayton frowned a moment, glancing at Atlas and eyeing him, before he pulled his backpack round, opening it. He slipped the box out and picked up the letter that was attached to the front of the box. She recognised Fontaine’s handwriting immediately and it seemed Clayton did too because his eyes welled up a little, running his fingers over the letters.  
  
“Should I leave?” Atlas asked softly. “This seems like it’s a private moment..”  
  
“It’s okay…” Clayton said. “You’re gonna help my Mama’s shoulder so… you need to stay,” he opened up the envelope and pulled out the letter.  
  
“What does is say, Søntos?” Em asked softly.  
  
Clayton ran his eyes over the words a moment before he started to speak them. “Hey kid, guess the worst has happened huh? I ain’t great at saying goodbye, so I figured I’d do it in a way I know. Figured I owed you that much…” he paused and wiped at his eyes furiously, looking determined to not cry. “So- so I’ve given you one last thing. Hopefully you’ll never have to use it, but better safe than sorry I always say. Remember them rules I taught you and the watch trick. Keep your wits about you and remember,” Clayton looked up at Atlas as he read the final part, narrowing his eyes a little. “Never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves. Fontaine,” Clayton folded the note up and opened the box, his eyes widened at what was inside.  
  
Sitting in the box was a crossbow. It was small and light, Clayton would be able to use it no problem. There was ammunition with it too, two boxes sat underneath and Clayton read what type of bolts they were. Knockout gas and tranquilliser darts. He wouldn’t be killing anyone just putting them to sleep. That would help with the splicers and Ryan’s men.  
  
Emilie looked surprised, picking up one of the boxes and reading what type of bolt they were. She seemed relieved when she realised they were just tranqu’ bolts and nothing lethal.  
  
“He really did care about you didn’t he…?” She whispered softly as Clayton stared at the crossbow, picking it up and running his fingers over it. It was a beautiful weapon. Intricate metallic designs littered it and on one side it seemed Fontaine had added a personal touch to it. Didn’t surprise her, the man had a habit of adding these touches. It was more of a joke on his side but it felt more personal to Clayton. On the side seemed to be an engraving, a name like her’s had. This wasn’t anything like ‘spitfire’ or something stupid, it was simply the name ‘Apollo’ written elegantly in gold calligraphy.  
  
“Apollo?” Clayton mumbled looking confused, looking up at his mother for answers. “Why Apollo?”  
  
“Well…” Atlas said, startling Clayton as he stared at the man who looked thoughtful a moment. “I ain’t the best with me myths but, Apollo I believe was an archer.. ya look somethin’ like him too lad.”  
  
A smile curled up Clayton’s face and he stared down fondly at the weapon. “Told you he liked me…” he whispered. “He cared. He always cared…” he ran his fingers over the words again. “He just had a funny way of showing it…”  
  
“I’ll teach you how to shoot it if ya’ like lad,” Atlas offered. “Give ya Ma a rest,” he pointed at her shoulder. “That’s gonna take a while to heal, unless we use ADAM.”  
  
“No,” Em shook her head. “I’m not touching the stuff.”  
  
“Understandable luv’,” he nodded. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff me self,” he glanced at Clayton who was staring at him, still studying. “But my offer still stands.”  
  
“I… I’ll think about it,” he said, placing the crossbow back into its case, walking over to the bed by the window and setting his things down. Shrugging his jacket off the boy stared at it and smiled. “I know what I want on the back of my jacket now..”  
  
“Well, we have us an artist fellow here, he might be able to help ya,” Atlas said. “Name’s O’Riley.”  
  
“O’Riley?” Em blinked. “Has scars on his face?”  
  
“That’s the one. He and his lads came here after the shootout with Fontaine. Looked as pale as death, think they thought we’d turn ‘em away,” Atlas shook his head. “Ya know he came down here to be an artist and look at where he ended up? All because he was lured down here and promised greatness, but no one cared when all they saw was his face. Awful shame that, but he’s just one story out of many down here. I’m sure though,” he looked up at Clayton. “That he’d be happy to help.”  
  
Limey eventually came back with the medical supplies. She explained it had taken so long because they were running low and would need to get some more. Also finding stuff that didn’t have any ADAM had been a challenge.  
  
Atlas and Limey got to work fixing Em’s shoulder up, all while Clayton sat watching them. His eyes never left Atlas. He wasn’t sure what to make of him, but his Mama seemed to like him enough. She didn’t trust him too much, Clayton could read that in her body language. She was closed off, only letting him help because she’d never be able to do it by herself. She wasn’t anywhere near as relaxed as she was with Kelly and Kyburz. She’d been friendlier because Atlas had helped them, so he’d gotten points for that, but just because she was being friendly, didn’t mean she trusted him.  
  
Once she was patched up Atlas and Limey left them alone. Not before Em had questioned Atlas why he put them near a window, explaining that Clayton’s favourite thing was looking outside when Atlas threw her a questioning look. The man had just laughed and shrugged at her saying it was a lucky guess before he left.  
  
Clayton still felt like he knew the man from somewhere. There were moments when Atlas’s characteristics were familiar and he knew them, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He seemed nice enough. He’d helped them after all and saved Clayton’s life from the splicer.  
  
He still didn’t trust him though.  
  
Once Atlas had gone, his mother looked at him questioningly. Clayton understood why, he’d been quite forward and aggressive towards the man that had helped them. Fontaine’s rules and words still rattled around in his head, the boy had paid close attention to those, they were special. Important.  
  
“Søntos?” She asked softly, sitting next to him on his bed as he stared out of the window. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m…” he frowned. “I’m not sure…” Clayton looked up at his mother. “It’s Atlas… I don’t know what to make of him, Mama. He just came out of nowhere.”  
  
“I know what you mean…” she mumbled, pulling him closer. “For now… we’ll keep an open mind. He doesn’t seem like a bad person,” she glanced at the door. “Certainly nicer than Ryan and Fontaine… to me at least.” Em looked at the box that sat by Clayton’s side. “Though I’m starting to feel like I never really knew Fontaine.”  
  
Clayton smiled. “He liked you.”  
  
“Yes… he told me..” She frowned a little. “He liked irritating me too.”  
  
“It’s how he showed he liked you.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t very much care for it,” she brushed his hair back. “But as long as he was kind to you, that’s all I care about. As for Atlas,” she looked out the window and frowned softly. “We wait and see. He did just save us and give us a place to stay… but that doesn’t mean I trust him. It’s going to take a lot more than a bunch of fine words and a nice face to convince me to trust him.”  
  
“You think he’s got a nice face?”  
  
Emilie blushed a little and shrugged. “Well… I mean, as faces go…” she rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s… not bad to look at- I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this, you’re too young.”  
  
Clayton grinned. “Mama and Atlas sitting in a tree….”  
  
“And that,” she said booping him on the nose, making Clayton laugh. “Is why I’m not talking to you about it. Jesus… could you imagine your Aunt Kelly’s face?” Em frowned looking sad. “I wonder where she is now.. who she’s working for…”  
  
“Aunt Kelly’s smart!” Clayton said, smiling. “She’ll get a job.”  
  
“Smarts, unfortunately, don’t count for much at the moment,” Em said, brushing his hair back. “It’s a strange world out there at the moment, Søntons.”  
  
“What’s gonna happen, Mama?”  
  
“You know.. I wish I knew…” she looked down at him and offered a comforting smile, pulling her son close. “We’re just gonna have to wait and see, but I promise you.. I’m never going to let anything happen to you. No one’s going to hurt you ever again and if anyone tries… “ she tightened her hold a little, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. “Well, they’ll find the barrel of my gun at their head.”

* * *

  
Kelly brushed her hair back and walked up to Sinclair Spirits that sat at the far end of Poseidon Plaza. She straightened out her skirt as she went, taking out her little compact and re-checking her makeup for the fifth time. A few people gave her funny looks as she passed them, but she didn’t take any notice of them. She was here to speak with Sinclair. Hopefully, he’d give her, her old job back. She needed it now, there was nowhere else to go.  
  
Entering the building, she found Sinclair sat in the corner, smoking with a bottle of whisky that looked almost empty and a glass that looked very full.  
  
The man behind the counter asked if she wanted anything but she declined, walking up to Sinclair, purse in hand. She looked the man over, he didn’t appear to be drunk, despite the alcohol levels in the bottle. If anything he looked startlingly sober and irritated about it.  
  
He glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow and she smiled back, hoping that she could win him over with her charm. She had last time after all, she doubted this time would be much different.  
  
“Hello, Mister Sinclair,” she battered her eyelashes and pulled a chair up to the table, taking a seat. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it?”  
  
“That it has, Miss Christie,” he drawled, looking not the least bit impressed with her act. “It’s gonna be a lot longer too,” he waved her away. “Get going."   
  
Kelly blinked, looking a little put out for a moment, but she put her smile back on her face. “Mister Sinclair… as you may have heard about the events that transpired regarding my previous employer-.”  
  
“You’re referring to how Ryan riddled Fontaine with bullets?” Sinclair replied raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes…” Kelly shuffled uncomfortably. “That. It… I can’t believe…” shaking her head she smiled again, though it seemed more forced than before. “Well, as you can imagine, I’m in a bit of jam.”  
  
“Hm. That I’d imagine you are,” he took a sip of his drink. “Out of a job, reputation tarnished for working for Fontaine in the first place, bills piling up and got no way of payin’ them,” he listed them off, looking like he took great amusement as the smile faded with each added thing. “Yes, one might call that ‘a bit of a jam’, indeed. I’m just mighty curious to know just what you think I intend to do about it?”  
  
“Oh, c’mon now, Augustus,” Kelly smiled coyly at him, winking too. “You and I go way back. You know what I’m here for and you remember all those things I did for you,” she placed a hand on her chest and smiled. “I mean, I let you use me as a weapon to get more deals and I did all your paper work, kept things organised for you, offered even sweeter deals as you might also recall?”  
  
Sinclair gave her a levelled look. “I recall you walkin’ out on me to go and work for Fontaine,” he took a sip of his drink again. “Find it awful convenient you forgettin’ to list that particular event in your memoirs.”  
  
“Can’t blame a girl for following the money now can you?”  
  
“No, but it seems to me like you’ve followed the money all the way to a dead end,” he smiled brightly at her. “I’m not rehiring you Kelly. You can get that idea out of your head right now and while you’re at it, ya can get out of my store too.”  
  
Kelly opened and closed her mouth several times. She was beginning to panic a little. Sinclair was her only chance of getting a decent job. Ryan wouldn’t hire her because of her connections with Fontaine and now Em was somehow a wanted woman, she wasn’t sure how that had happened. Kelly wasn’t sure how any of this was happening now, but she needed this job. It was her only chance at keeping her apartment.  
  
Calming herself down she smiled at him, leaning a little forward on the table, but her eyes screamed at how desperate she was. Sinclair wanted her to beg? She could do that. She needed the money after all.  
  
“Augustus, please,” she begged. “I need the money. I’ll loose everything!”  
  
“Well, I suppose you should’ve thought of that before you skipped ya’ merry way over to Fontaine,” he replied, swirling the alcohol around his glass. “You loosing everything ain’t my problem, Kelly. You’re not the only one either.”  
  
“But.. you and me, we go way back!” She gestured frantically. “We did unspeakable things.”  
  
“Hmmm… that we did,” he smiled fondly at the memory. “And I enjoyed ‘em for the time we did such activities. Fontaine was right about you, you’re impressive from every angle,” he sighed mockingly. “I am gonna miss those legs…”  
  
“Please!” She cried, reaching for his hands and gripping them tightly. “We’re friends right?”  
  
“Until you up and went. Stabbed me in the back like it was no big deal,” he narrowed his eyes a little, but smiled once more. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to decline your advances, Miss Christie… as a businesswoman, I’m sure you understand,” he winked at her.  
  
She looked and felt like she’d been slapped in the face. In a way she had. Augustus had just thrown her own words back at her, the ones she’s said to him when she’d left. Even the wink was something she’d added into her little act.  
  
Kelly had thought he’d gotten over it. She thought he hadn’t cared all that much, but no. He’d been bitter and angry about it the entire time, he’d just hidden it behind a smile and his charming words. He’d been angry and now he was taking great enjoyment out of declining her the only saving grace she had left. Her only chance and keeping everything she had.  
  
“You- you…” she tried to keep calm but the rage took over. “You smug son of a bitch!”  
  
“Now, now,” he scolded her lightly. “There’s no need for that kind of language,” he pointed at her, smiling smugly. “Them’s the brakes, kid.”  
  
“Sinclair, I’ll loose everything!” She cried, hands clasped together. “I’m begging you! Begging!”  
  
“Take it to someone who cares, you losin’ everything ain’t my problem,” he shrugged a little, before offering a smile. “But if you’re that desperate, I hear Eve’s Garden is hirin’.”  
  
Kelly grabbed his glass of alcohol and chucked the drink in his face, before she slammed the glass down on the table top. Picking up her purse she went storming out of the shop, pressing the back of her hand to her face to stop herself from crying. It did little to help and she ran to the bathrooms.  
  
She slammed the door open on one of the stalls after paying for it, quickly slamming it closed and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, head in her hands as she sobbed.

* * *

  
Emilie brushed her new shirt down. The one with the bullet hole and bloodstains she’d burnt in one of the barrels they had on fire for warmth. Now she had a clean blue shirt on with slacks and braces. Her hair was done up simply and put up out of her face. It was late now, Clayton had settled in bed asleep and she’d been about to when Limey had came and told her Atlas had requested her.  
  
Em had gotten dressed in her current attire quickly, doing her hair up and even having a plat hanging down through it. She stood outside of Atlas’s door, checked herself over again and paused. This was ridiculous what the hell did she care how she looked? She’d only met this man today and she didn’t fully trust him, but she was swooning over him still? Just because of a pretty face and nice smile?  
  
“Get a grip, Emilie,” she mumbled to herself, almost in defiance of these new feelings bursting free, she undid her hair and let it fall around her face like it usually did, but she kept the plat in place. No point in getting rid of that, she actually quite liked it too. Maybe she’d keep it in all the time now?  
  
Shaking her head she knocked on the door gently. She heard Atlas through the door and opened it, poking her head in.  
  
“Atlas? You… wanted to see me?”  
  
Atlas smiled at her and offered her a seat at his desk. “Yes, luv’, I hate to disturb ya while you’re gettin’ settled, but I need your help.”  
  
“My help?” She asked as she took a seat at the desk, “Why’d you need my help?”  
  
“Ain’t that the question,” he said while pouring himself a drink. “Would you care for hair of the dog?”  
  
Em glanced at the bottle and found herself surprised to see that it was real Irish whisky, but she shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink…”  
  
Atlas raised an eyebrow. “You struck me as the type that enjoys herself a good drink. Thought I saw you at the Fightin’ McDonagh enough.”  
  
She couldn’t remember seeing him there, but she hadn’t been focusing on anyone else when she’d been at the pub. She’d been focused on her friends and her drink. Especially her drink.  
  
She sighed, pushing a strand of her out of her face. “I used to. Recovering alcoholic… came this far,” she crossed her arms looking uncomfortable. “Wouldn’t want to fall off the wagon now, I’ve got my son to look after.”  
  
“Ah. Now it makes sense,” he nodded before taking a packet of cigarettes. “Would smokin’ also be off the table or can I tempt ya’ with one?”  
  
“I’ve got my own,” she pulled out her packet and offered him one. “Want a real cigarette? I used to order them in from Fontaine…”  
  
His eyes lit up at that, reaching forwards and taking a cigarette from her packet. He lit both of them with his lighter, pocketing it and took a drag. Emilie watched in slight amusement as his eyes slipped shut in a look of pure bliss. Real tobacco not that Rapture shit that you couldn’t even taste the nicotine or get your fix.  
  
“Tastes like heaven,” he breathed the smoke out, eyes opening to look at her. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t ya’ luv?”  
  
Em shrugged. “I like to keep people on their toes.”  
  
“Ha. I like that in a lass,” he said, taking another drag.  
  
“Flirting with me now, Atlas?” She rose an eyebrow at him. “You must need my help awful bad.”  
  
“Now you’s mistakin’ me fer some lyin’ toe rag like Sinclair or Fontaine,” he gave her a very level look. “I’m not an idiot, Ms Lokken, I recognised Fontaine fer the scoundrel he was. Even if he did help us poorer folk out. As for flirtin’ with ya?” He shrugged. “Well, ya can’t blame a man fer bein’ honest. A lass like you is bound to turn a few heads, but you strike me more as a woman who’d prefer it if people paid more attention to her mind,” Atlas smiled at her. “And I’d be a right fool not to pay attention to that.”  
  
She blinked at him looking surprised. She was expecting something like Fontaine, but this was nothing like that.  
  
Atlas wasn’t Fontaine though, was he? He was just a honest man trying to make things better for everyone else. Of course he wouldn’t be like Fontaine, he said it himself he knew what kind of a man Frank Fontaine had been. Emilie personally thought scoundrel was too kind of a word, bastard suited Fontaine a whole lot better.  
  
“Yes you would,” she agreed, not too proud to agree either. “Whilst I hated him, Fontaine was smart enough to see I was good at my job,” she took a drag from her cigarette. “I was… head of the electrical engineering and mechanic department. I even fixed this place up at times.”  
  
“Which is what I wanted to talk to ya ‘bout,” he said, standing up and walking around the desk to stand in front of her. “Walk with me,” he offered her his hand.  
  
Emilie looked him up and down. Atlas smiled at her, the kind of smile that said you can trust me, we’re friends you and I. She stubbed her cigaret out and took his hand. He helped her stand up and lead her towards the door.  
  
They didn’t walk too far, just to another part of the poor house which had people rushing back and forth, carrying bandages. Fresh going in and bloodied going out. She hesitated and Atlas stopped with her, gently taking her hand in both of his. Emilie tore her eyes away from the door and stared at him and his all too honest face. He looked so compassionate, so caring, like no other man she’d seen in this place.  
  
“It’s okay…” he assured. “We don’t have to go in. I just thought you should see what kind of a mess Ryan has left us all in. How he’s treated the people who built him his ‘paradise’,” he spat the word out looking justifiably angry.  
  
“No… I…” she swallowed and quickly took her hands away from his, shoving them in her pockets. “I can go in. I want to see. So I can understand…”  
  
He nodded and lead her inside. Em immediately wished she’d not gone in.  
  
People, men, women and children, were laid out on beds. Their families were by their side and people were rushing back and forth trying to help. They clearly weren’t doctors or nurses, but they seemed to know enough to help a little. Some of the injuries looked work related; burns, broken bones and a few missing limbs. Others were more deliberate, like they’d been attacked by splicers; bullet wounds, clean cuts and clear plasmid injuries.  
  
The children made Em’s heart break because there was no one next to them save for the people trying to treat them. Orphans. Like Clayton had been. It could very well have been her son lying on those beds all by himself with no one to give him any sort of comfort.  
  
“Do you see?” Atlas whispered, “Do you see what that _bastard_ has done? He _lured_ us down. He promised us everything and lured us here. He made us build this place and look at how he’s left us!” He gestured at the room, turning to her almost pleadingly. “I know you need to rest, luv, but we could use ya’ help. You can keep this place workin’, lights, heatin’, clean water.. any sort of help at all. I can only give these people supplies, medicine, food, clothes, but you?” He took her hands in his once more, squeezing them a little. “You can give ‘em the one thing I can’t. You can give ‘em power.”  
  
“Me?” She blinked. “By myself… I..”  
  
“Not by ya’self,” he grinned. “People all around ya’ can help. We ain’t doin’ anythin’ by ourselves ever again. We did before and look at where it got us! The only difference this place has from the slums of.. New York or Glasgow, is the millions of gallons of salt water. Rapture, was supposed to be different,” Atlas narrowed his eyes at the wall, almost like he could see Ryan standing right there. “But Ryan showed us all. He showed us all when he killed Frank Fontaine… it’s time that all you remember ya’ place. Well you know what?” He turned away from her stalking out of the room. “Message received! Loud and clear!”  
  
Emilie followed behind him. She was glad to be out of the room. She didn’t want to stare at anymore of the injured, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Atlas. There was so much energy from the man, so much charisma. He drew you in just by speaking, put his entire body into every thing he said.  
  
He turned to her, eyes blazing with an anger she thought she knew but couldn’t place for the life of her.  
  
“If he won’t give us what we want, we’re more than happy to come and take it!”  
  
“So… you’re going to lead the people against Ryan?”  
  
“Peacefully for now… but I can only steady ‘em for so long,” he gestured to the room. “People are angry because of that, because of what happened to Fontaine. They’ve been lied to and they’re all tired of it, me’self included. Ryan needs to be stopped.”  
  
“You’re going to kill him?” She hated the fact she sounded hopeful.  
  
Atlas sighed, turning away from her to lean heavily on the railing. “I’m not a man that takes pride in killin’ folk, but Ryan hasn’t given us much of an option. Besides, he ain’t all that bothered ‘bout killin’ us now is he? I’d rather we all couldda done this peacefully, put aside our differences and talked, but we’ve gone past that now. The time fer talkin’ ‘as long since passed. We have to take action,” he shrugged a little. “If that means we have to kill the bloody tyrant, then so be it…. He brought it on ‘imself.”  
  
She glanced back at the room they’d left, before looking back at him. He still hadn’t turned round. His whole body was tense, shoulders pushing against the shirt… she slapped herself mentally and shook her head. This was so goddamn stupid. Come to your senses, so what if he’s charming? There have been plenty of charming pricks in your life.  
  
Emilie walked forward so she could stand next to him and not let herself get distracted. Wrapping her arms around herself and staring at the wall that faced them. The only view they had in this place because of its awful conditions. Everyone up in Mercury Suites had huge glass windows that stretched across one whole half of their apartment. She remembered when she saw it in Fontaine’s pent house.  
  
“Why do they call me Hestia?”  
  
He laughed and looked at her in disbelief. “Ya don’t know? Hestia gives the people warmth. She’s the goddess of the home, if me memory serves me correctly.”  
  
“You’re educated for a workingman.”  
  
“Like you,” he gestured to her. “I like to keep ‘em on their toes. I dare say you can read just like me.”  
  
“So.. I’m ‘Hestia’ because I give people warmth?”  
  
“I believe that’s the idea,” he nodded his head, looking towards the entrance as some other people came in, helping a few others that looked badly injured. Atlas sighed heavily. “It just keeps gettin’ worse, doesn’t it?”  
  
“You’ll liberate these people,” Emilie said, looking at him. “I know you will. I can tell, you’re a good man.”  
  
Atlas laughed and shook his head. “I am not a liberator. Liberators do not exist. These people will liberate themselves,” he flashed her a charming smile. “These people aren’t helpless, they just need someone ta tell ‘em they can do it.”  
  
Frowning she turned away from him and looked back at the door. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help but would that put Clayton even more at risk? If she was only helping in the poor houses though, no one would know she was here. No one would know it was her and they were already being hunted by Ryan’s men because she built Ryan’s gate.  
  
It was a little convenient wasn’t it? The more paranoid part of her brain supplied her. That the moment you’re in trouble the man who wants Andrew Ryan dead, happens to help the person who built the locking system that was protecting Ryan? Almost like it was fate or he planned it out. Atlas planned it and set the whole thing up. He could just be charming you, but he seemed so honest. So real.  
  
Clayton was right though. Atlas had just come up out of no where and she was pretty certain that she’d recognise him. A face like that wasn’t one you could hide. He was gorgeous. Movie star handsome. He had the charisma of an actor too, he held your attention when he spoke and commanded respect. The respect wasn’t forced, it was freely given. He was so honest and open.  
  
Emilie didn’t know what to think. She wanted to believe and trust him, but things weren’t adding up. Besides not trusting people had gotten her far, but it was awful lonely. She’d been raising Clayton by herself and whilst she wouldn’t change that, a part of her missed the choice of having company. She’d never been too bothered before, but as her friends gradually got paired off and started their own lives, she started to realise how alone she’d been.  
  
_You’re being an idiot_ , Emilie scolded herself, _Jesus Christ, Emilie, you don’t even know this guy’s real name. Snap out of it. He could be a lying bastard for all you know_.  
  
“I’ll let you think it over,” Atlas said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Ya don’t need to make any sort of decision now, luv’. I understand I’m askin’ somethin’ big of you. Look at me,” he shook his head. “Ya bloody injured and here I am askin’ for your help. I should be askin’ if you need help. Treat ya’ like a lady.”  
  
“It’s okay,” she shrugged lightly. “I’m fine. Just… stings a little and besides, people don’t treat me like a lady. Not often at least,” Emilie looked at him and smirked. “But I suppose I don’t present myself as one.”  
  
Atlas smirked back at her. “Give you a string a pearls and you’ll dance a waltz,” he purred slightly. “Give ya’ a bottle and ya’ll drink any sailor under the table.”  
  
“Looks like you’ve got me dead to rights,” Emilie walked closer to him, looking him up and down. “I don’t know what to make of you yet. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone I just met, no matter how good and well mannered they may seem,” she tilted her head to the side pondering. “But… you’re on the right track. I’ll help,” she pointed at him warningly, eyes narrowing a little. “But if for one moment I think you’re up to something or you’re just another snake oil salesman, me and my son are gone.”  
  
“Well…” Atlas winked at her. “I best be on my best behaviour,” he said. “You’re a tough lass aren’t ya? A hard nut to crack.”  
  
Emilie smiled coyly at him. “Oh.. you have no idea…” leaning up to his ear she whispered softly. “Where do you think Clayton get’s it from?” She stepped around him, heading towards her room again. “Goodnight Atlas.”  
  
“Night luv…”  
  
As the door shut behind Em, Limey came up next to Frank who seemed for lack of a better word, stunned.  
  
“Is she on board?”  
  
“I… honestly ain’t too sure, Limes,” he responded, Atlas voice still in place. “Gotta say… I never would of thought Em could pull off the… well, fer lack of a better word, seductress,” he turned to her and flashed a grin, reminiscent of Fontaine. “The bird’s just full of surprises.. I’m quite enjoyin’ meself.”  
  
Limey rose an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Focus on the goal.”  
  
“I’m focussed, ya’ don’t need to worryin’ none. She’s unsure fer now, but she won’t need that much convincin’,” he said, looking back at the door. “Em’s angry. She also wants to believe and trust me, which she will. She’s just gotta see the truth that’s all. Realise I’m here to help folk and bring justice to us all.”  
  
Limey looked amused for a second before shaking her head. “Alright. Good,” she turned to walk away, calling behind her. “And if you call me darling again I am going to shoot you.”  
  
Frank shot her an amused look. Same old Limey, least she hadn’t changed. Still, the good news was that Em seemed to be buying into his Atlas act. She wanted to believe it all and soon she would. Soon, he’d have her wrapped around his finger, he wasn’t blind after all. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him.  
  
“So ya fancy a bloody leprechaun, do ya Ms Em?” He mumbled quietly to himself. “I can work with that…”  
  
He wouldn’t have to keep this act up for long hopefully. Soon Andrew Ryan would be dead and he’d be sitting pretty in control of Rapture. Then, he could move on from this sinking pile of trash and take the ADAM to the surface, finally retiring somewhere on a beach. Maybe. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be anywhere near the ocean after spending so much time in it.  
  
Cross that bridge when he came to it. The main thing, was after Rapture, he’d never have to grift again. No more grifts, no more scams. He would never have to live it rough, he’d finally be at the top and staying there.  
  
Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, he opened them once more and plastered on that stupid fake smile. He was honestly astounded at how easily it had been to fool everyone, but Em as always was going to be tricky. Hell, forget her, Clayton was going to be a tricky one. Kid was smart. Really smart and sharp too. If he didn’t watch his step the boy could quite easily unravel this whole con, he’d have to watch himself around him. He also had to regain Clayton’s trust as Atlas. It seemed the ‘death’ of Fontaine had hit him hard. He seemed to have grown up in a matter of days.  
  
It was nothing new. Frank could work around it easily enough and once he played the angle of romance with Em, everything would just fall into place. She’d built Ryan’s gate and could get him past it. Then once Ryan was dead he’d wait a bit to get total control of Rapture and then reveal his ingenious deception. The greatest con of his career and if things got a little too dicey? Well… Frank had the perfect failsafe put in place if that should ever happen. Not that it was going to, of course. He had this in the bag, but it never hurt to be prepared.

* * *

_Emilie Lokken,_  
  
_Atlas:_  
  
_I met Atlas today… he, my god… what a man.. he honestly cares for these people, a good person in Rapture, I can’t believe it. He’s amazing and not bad to look at, got a face you’d remember. Where… where has he been all my life?_  
  
_Heh, I think I’m in love, finally. And all it took was a war._


	2. This Old House

_Ray Lardner,_   
  
_A Gift From Fontaine:_   
  
_Frank Fontaine called me in the other day. Me! Ray Lardner! Says trouble’s comin’ an’ he’s passing out “special” Plasmids to all his best guys. *shivers* I mean, it’s an honour but, man… I started getting these shingles all over. Skin’s discoloured… like when a guy’s about to lose a limb, you know? An’ I can’t seem to pile on enough clothes. I hate to ask, but… is this happenin’ to everybody?_

* * *

  
Clayton quietly watched the splicer that was living with them. You could still see the person and Atlas assured everyone that this one wasn’t dangerous. Yet. There was always that… yet that hovered over the end of any sentence that started with ‘the splicer isn’t that dangerous’ because they always ended up being dangerous. Always.   
  
This splicer was a frosty splicer or he was becoming a frosty. The ice was poking out of his shoulders and now his eyes glowed at all times in that sickening white. Occasionally they’d pulse with blue energy of the Plasmid running through its veins.   
  
Clayton recognised him as one of the men that had worked for Fontaine, but he couldn’t remember his name. Mister Fontaine had always had a constant rotating staff, there would be people that Clayton would only ever see once. He never could figure why. People had whispered about Fontaine killing people if they failed him or thought about betraying him, but Clayton didn’t want to believe that. Fontaine had always been nice to him. Kinda. In his own way.   
  
“They’re quite a sight aren’t they lad?”   
  
He tensed up and turned to glare a little at Atlas who was leaning against the wall watching the same splicer Clayton had been watching.   
  
Clayton still didn’t trust him. He felt like this.. Atlas was trying to take the place of Fontaine and Clayton wasn’t having it. Not from his point of view. Sure, everyone could go on praising him and his mother had advised him to keep an open mind, but the only questions Clayton had was where was this man before? If he cared so much, why did he wait? If he hadn’t of waited, if someone had done something earlier, Mister Fontaine could’ve helped back them. They could’ve stopped Ryan before any of this had happened.   
  
His Mama had said he was too young to understand politics and yes, maybe he was, but he understood people. He understood people better than what others gave him credit for. He saw that this Atlas had risen up at a time when people were angry and was channeling that. That wasn’t helping someone, as far as Clayton was concerned. Giving people food and water, a place to sleep, like what Mister Fontaine had done, that was helping someone.   
  
“I guess,” he shrugged, turning away from him and crossing his arms. “You’ve seen one splicer you’ve seen them all.”   
  
Atlas rose an eyebrow at him, eventually walking over and sitting next to him on the boxes that Clayton was sitting on. The boy stiffened up at his presence, shuffling away from him and not looking at him. He tried not to acknowledge his presence at all.   
  
Atlas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking the boy over. “I feel like we still haven’t patched up our differences. Ya still don’t trust me, do ya’ lad?”  
  
“No, but my Mama doesn’t trust you either,” he glared at him. “You’ve not done anythin’ to make me trust you.”  
  
“So savin’ ya’ life don’t count?” Atlas rose an eyebrow at him.   
  
Clayton narrowed his eyes. “You might’ve done that to help me or to help yourself,” he accused. “People only help people because they want something in return. Especially people like you!”   
  
“Oh? What’s a person like me?”   
  
“You’re taking advantage of these people,” Clayton snapped at him. “They’re angry and you’re fuelling it!”   
  
Atlas looked a little surprised at the accusations, but he seemed to come to a conclusion. “You’re angry, aren’t ya? You’re angry about what happened to Fontaine.”  
  
“Shut up!” Clayton shot out of his seat, determined to run away but Atlas snatched him by the wrist. “Let me go!”  
  
“Easy, now,” the man said sternly forcing him to sit back down. “Ya’ directin’ ya anger at the wrong person. Ryan was the one who ordered Fontaine’s death, not me. I’m trying to pick up the pieces,” Atlas looked Clayton in the eye and the boy glared back defiantly. “Listen. I ain’t gonna pretend that I… understand what ya’ goin’ through, this all must seem damn scary fer ya’. I lost someone at the docks too, though.”   
  
Clayton’s eyes widened, he looked at the floor a moment, before looking back at Atlas. There was deep sorrow and regret in the man’s eyes. He was mourning like Clayton was.  
  
“You.. did?”   
  
“Yes,” Atlas sighed and rubbed at his eyes, almost looked like he was trying to stop himself crying. “I lost me brother. He was workin’ fer Fontaine and stood by him loyally. Now he’s dead, but do I get any apology? No. I just get told he was a coward fer siding with Fontaine. Well, it ain’t like Ryan gave us much of a choice now is it?!”   
  
Clayton looked at the floor, fiddling with his watch again. “Ryan called Mister Fontaine a coward… too…” the boy’s lip trembled. He didn’t notice Atlas looking at him over the top of his hand that had been covering his face. Studying him. “Mister Fontaine and Mister Reggie are both dead and… and Ryan called them cowards… they…” he sniffed and rubbed at his eyes furiously. “They weren’t cowards, they weren’t!” He sobbed.   
  
Suddenly, Clayton was being pulled to Atlas and the man enveloped him in a hug, gently rubbing at his back. Despite Clayton’s distrust of the man, he reached up with his tiny hands and clung to his shirt, sobbing and crying. A part of him could hear Fontaine scolding him for showing weakness to a complete stranger, but Fontaine wasn’t here anymore and he never would be ever again.  
  
“That’s it lad…” Atlas whispered. “Let it all out. It ain’t good to keep all that bottled up inside ya’. There ya’ go…” he pulled Clayton away from him and gently reached up, brushing his tears away with his hand. “Ya’ angry lad, you’ve got every reason to be…”   
  
“I want my Papa…”   
  
“I wasn’t aware ya Ma was married..”  
  
“No.. she, she isn’t,” Clayton rubbed at his eyes before his fingers found the watch again. “I want my Papa. M-Mister Fontaine… he.. he’s my Papa.. I… I want him back!”   
  
Atlas had tensed a moment. Clayton looked up at him confused and found the man staring at him with wide blue eyes. Looking for one second haunted and recognisable, before the look vanished almost as quickly as it came and Atlas was pulling him back in for another hug. Holding him closer than before.   
  
“I.. I’m sorry lad,” Atlas whispered, swallowing almost uneasily. “I wish… I wish I could do something to help ya’. Loss is part of life,” he pulled him back and brushed his blonde curls and waves from his face, the ones that had gotten stuck to his tears. “It doesn’t make it any easier, but… ya can direct that anger,” he tapped his chest. “The anger ya feel right here.. you can direct it. Aim it like a weapon. I can’t help you bring your Da back from the dead, but I can help ya’ avenge him.”  
  
“A-avenge?”  
  
“ _Ryan_ ,” Atlas growled. “He _stole_ your Da away from you. He had your Da _killed_ just so he could win and win what exactly? Nothing. Nothin’ but a product that hurts people and turns ‘em into lunatics.”  
  
“I…I don’t..” Clayton frowned a moment, trying to pull away from Atlas. “I don’t want to hurt anyone…”   
  
“You don’t have to, lad,” Atlas assured him, holding him in place. “You can help handin’ out food for the poorer folk, medicine, blankets, clothes… _you_ can help them, Clayton,” he smiled at him. “You wouldn’t be hurtin’ anyone and you’d be gettin’ back at Ryan through your kindness and brave acts of charity.”  
  
“I… could?”   
  
Atlas smiled a reassuring smile and nodded his head. “Yes… yes you could. I wouldn’t be sendin’ you out to war, lad,” he shook his head. “You’re far too young. You don’t need to see that, but you can help in other ways,” he explained. “You could help just like Fontaine did.”   
  
Clayton sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He tapped his fingers against his watch again. His nervous habit that had been getting worse as the months had gone by. He’d either tap at the watch or run his fingers over the busted metal and watch face. One of the only things he had from Fontaine and his only thing from topside. It was precious to him, important. He couldn’t loose it.  
  
“I… I’d like to help,” he said softly, looking at the floor, kicking at one of the stones that lay at his feet. “I’d like to help because it’s the right thing to do,” he clarified, giving Atlas a look. “Not because I trust you… but I want to. Trust you, that is.”   
  
“Well, I’d say we’re on the right track then,” Atlas smiled and stood up, resting his hands on his hips, looking like his posters. “If you ever need to talk to someone,” he said, placing a hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “I’m here. I know I may not be ya first choice, lad, but I’ll always listen.”   
  
Clayton nodded. “Thanks…”   
  
Atlas gave his shoulder a little squeeze, before he started to walk away from him. “Oh,” he suddenly called and smiled at him. “Let me know when ya’ want me to show you how ta aim with that crossbow of yours. I’ll be in me office if ya need me or ya’ know…” he shrugged a little. “Around somewhere. You’ll be able ta find me… smart lad like you.”   
  
Clayton watched him leave, turning back to watching the splicer that was following a group out with backpacks filled with food and supplies. Some even seemed to be carrying more pamphlets and collection boxes. The irony wasn’t lost on the little boy, despite his age, he found it funny that the rich were funding the very people that wanted to fight them. Maybe there were a few good people, but most people were just here for their own needs and gains. They didn’t care about the horror that all these people were facing.   
  
He frowned and looked down at his watch, running his fingers over the metal again and sighing softly. They had nowhere to go so it looked they were going to be here for a while. His Mama was helping fix up some of the heating and lighting in the poorhouse. He understood why. She wanted to help and plus they were living here too. It would be stupid not to fix up the things that made living here comfortable.   
  
He still didn’t know what to make of Atlas. The man was a mystery and Clayton didn’t know his real name. He didn’t know who this man was and where he’d come from. What his goal was, because there had to be a reason for him doing all of this? Right?   
  
Maybe he really was a good person just trying to make things better for everyone or maybe he was trying to simply take advantage of these people and use it to his advantage. He seemed to genuine though and when he told Clayton his brother had died, Clayton had felt sorry for him. He’d cried in the man’s arms and admitted something he didn’t really admit to anyone easily.   
  
His eyes flickered over the watch and he rubbed his thumb over the cracked and broken watch face. Frowning slightly he tried to think about what Mister Fontaine would do and say.   
  
“Look after number one, kid,” he mumbled to himself in a badly attempted mimic of Fontaine’s voice. “Ain’t no one more important than ya’self or the people close to ya’, but always look after number one!” He sighed and burried his head in his hands.   
  
It was all too confusing. He wanted to help people, it was the right thing to do. Atlas had said he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone either. He could just help with supplies, that didn’t seem too bad. That seemed like a good thing. It was something Fontaine had done too. He’d irritated Ryan by doing it.   
  
Thinking about Ryan, Clayton grit his teeth and glared angrily at the door. He hated Andrew Ryan. He’d never thought he’d ever hate anyone, but he _hated_ Andrew Ryan. Hated him fiercely. The man had ruined everything. He’d flipped Clayton’s world upside down with his selfish acts and taken his Papa from him so violently. He was angry, could feel himself get angrier the longer he thought about it.   
  
Sighing, Clayton got to his feet, walking up the steps towards Atlas’s office. Finding the man comforting someone, sending them away once they seemed better and then Clayton walked over to him slowly.   
  
“A-Atlas?”   
  
Atlas turned to him and smiled kindly. “You alright, lad?”   
  
Clayton fiddled with the watch again, brow furrowed in deep thought. “I’d like to help. I want to help with the supplies,” he looked up, narrowing his eyes at him. “I don’t trust you. I’m helping these people because it’s the right thing to do, but I don’t trust you. I’m not even sure I like you.”  
  
“I’m not trying to replace Fontaine, lad,” he said taking steps towards him. “Just to get that out in the open.”   
  
“You never could,” the boy responded, glaring at him. “But I’ll help with the supplies.”  
  
“Any help is good help,” Atlas assured him, smiling kindly. “I appreciate it. Also appreciate your honesty.”  
  
“People lie,” Clayton replied flatly. “People lie too much. I’m not an idiot I know Fontaine lied to me about things because I was a kid,” he narrowed his eyes. “And I _liked_ Mister Fontaine. I _don’t_ like _you_.”   
  
“Makes me awful curious to know what I’ve done to make you hate me, boyo,” Atlas frowned slightly. “As far as I’m aware, I’ve done nothin’ but help ya’.”   
  
“Yeah. You’ve done _nothing_ ,” he replied harshly, pointing at the door. “You’re sending other people out there to do it. While you’re safe in here, just like Ryan! You’re not putting yourself at risk, not like my Pa- not like Mister Fontaine!” He jabbed his finger aggressively at Atlas. “I’m helping the people, because you won’t! You’re a _coward_ , Atlas!”   
  
With that the child turned around and ran off, though you could hardly call him a child anymore. He’d seen too much. He understood how the world worked better than some adults did.   
  
It was late in the evening the next time Clayton saw Atlas, but he stayed close to his mother. Glaring fiercely across the camp fire at the man that was supposedly helping the poor, his gaze never leaving him. Clayton could tell that Atlas knew he was looking at him, occasionally the man would pause in eating to look back at Clayton. He had the guts to smile at him and Clayton would just turn away from him.   
  
He didn’t understand how people could trust this man so easily. Couldn’t they see that he was a coward like Ryan? Why couldn’t they see that? Why couldn’t his Mama see that?   
  
Em had been working all day with a group of fellow workman, all listening to her and helping fix up the place. Now they had electric lights working again and even the heating. The middle courtyard though, didn’t get any heat because it was outside, so they had a fire lit in the middle while they sat around it. Most of the food was just tinned goods, but they had small pieces of bread and a real treat of cheese.   
  
They all talked and made small talk, O’Riley was sitting next to Clayton on the other side of him. Since him and Em knew each other just about, it seemed logical. Clayton liked O’Riley. Sure his face was a little scary to look at, but once you got used to it, all the boy felt was a deep sadness for the man. It wasn’t his fault he looked like that and it couldn’t be easy that was for sure. A few people around the circle starred at O’Riley’s face, a lot of children starred and whispered. It seemed like the man could never getting any peace because of his face.   
  
“Hey kid,” O’Riley spoke to Clayton with a small smile. “Just let me know what ya’ want and I’ll paint it up on your jacket.”   
  
“Thank’s Mister O’Riley!”   
  
“Just… just call me O’Riley, ‘kay kid?”   
  
“Okay..” Clayton looked up at him. “Do you draw a lot?”   
  
O’Riley looked surprised that Clayton was still talking to him, but he smiled and nodded. Reaching to his inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a little leather bound notebook. He handed it to Clayton and nodded briefly, indicating to the boy he could look through it.   
  
Gently he took and opened the notebook, flicking through the pages hesitantly.   
  
There were a lot of drawings of Rapture. Just the various buildings, a few of the sea creatures. As he continued to flick through he found pictures of people and some of them he recognised. A few were famous faces around Rapture, like Cohen, Ava and even Andrew Ryan. Clayton glared fiercely at that one, his grip tightening on the book a little. He looked like he was trying to burn holes into the page.   
  
“Here,” O’Riley said as he gently took the book from him, flipping through the pages, before stopping. “Think you’ll like this one…”   
  
He handed the book back to him and Clayton’s eyes widened. It was Fontaine. Not just that it was him and Fontaine at the docks. He remembered that day, he’d only been four or five at the time. O’Riley did say he’d seen him when he’d met him at New Years.   
  
Clayton looked up questionably. “Why’d you draw this?”   
  
O’Riley shrugged a little. “I kinda keep that thing as a journal. Can’t spell or write for love nor money, so I… drew,” he shrugged and looked down at the picture. “It’s the only time I’d ever seen Fontaine… nice… I guess..”   
  
“Nice?” Someone asked, looking bewildered. “I know he gave us all of this… but he wasn’t ever nice.”  
  
“He was… he could be!” Clayton argued, reaching up to gently stroke at his watch again. “You just had to get to know him first… that was all.”   
  
All eyes fell on Em who for the most part had been looking at the drawings over Clayton’s shoulder and eating her food. She blinked back at all the questioning faces, shrugging a little.   
  
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I don’t know how he did it either..”   
  
“I heard you were sleeping around with Fontaine..” Another popped up, holding his family close, the wife slapping his arm. “What? I’m just saying what I heard.”   
  
Em sighed looking at her food. “Did you hear that from Andrew Ryan, by any chance?” She rose an eyebrow. “I hated Fontaine. Sure he paid me well.. but I despised him, though..” She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her son. “He was kind to my son. I can’t ask for more than that even if… how’d you put it søntos? He had a ‘funny way’ of showing it?”   
  
Clayton nodded smiling at her. “He gave me books! My watch!” He held the watch up for them to see. “I know it’s broken, but it’s supposed to be broken… it helped me deal with bullies,” he pushed the watch over his knuckles and grinned. “See!”   
  
“You never told me that’s why it was broken,” Em frowned at him and he shrugged back at her.   
  
“Mister Fontaine gave it to me broken,” he ran his fingers over it as he slipped it back on his wrist. “He used it topside. It’s got stories behind it… I wanted to know those stories but… I guess I won’t now…”   
  
O’Riley took his book back and carefully tore the page out, handing Clayton the drawing and smiling at him. “I think you’d appreciate it more than me, kid,” he ruffled his hair and Clayton grinned back at him.   
  
“Let’s see?” Em asked and Clayton shuffled closer showing her the image and she smiled a little. “You’ve got a lot of talent, O’Riley. These are almost life like.”  
  
“Eh,” O’Riley shrugged a little. “Just doodles…I was gonna be an artist..” He sighed wistfully, staring up at the ceiling a moment as he reminisced. “Ryan saw my art.. said I was ahead of my time. Said I deserved to be recognised for my talent and invited me down here,” he didn’t know it, but O’Riley had quite the audience. “Promised that my face wouldn’t stop it. Like an idiot I believed him, but just ‘cause ya’ move the people 18 fathoms beneath the Atlantic doesn’t mean their opinions are gonna change. Treated me like shit. Ryan didn’t care. So, what did I do? I ended up working for Fontaine and now… I’m here,” he laughed bitterly glaring down at his food. “Figure there’s a lot of stories like that down here.”  
  
“Ryan promised me a place where I could use my skill and talent, with nothing like my culture or sex being thrown in my face,” Emilie said, kicking at a stone with a little shrug. “Fontaine gave me a higher rank than Ryan ever did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really good friends with the man who is in charge, but he says I’m more qualified. His words not mine. Then when I build Ryan his precious security system and gate… he has me arrested or killed. Would’ve done at least…” she smiled and looked over at Atlas. “If Atlas hadn’t been there to save me and Clayton.”   
  
Atlas smiled at her. “My pleasure, luv. Whilst I don’t do it always…” he looked at Clayton dead on this time. “I do go out from time to time. Why, it was how me and ya’ lad there met after all…”  
  
“Ain’t that convenient?” Clayton snapped back, folding up his picture of him and Fontaine, slipping it away in one of his inside pockets.   
  
Atlas looked at him amused, while everyone stared at Clayton in surprise. His mother especially looked shocked by his behaviour.   
  
The boy hadn’t settled at all. He’d constantly been on edge about Atlas, glaring at him and arguing. Biting his head off whenever he so much as tried to be nice. It was a strange thing to see, since as far as Em was aware, Clayton didn’t judge people so harshly when he first met them. He got to know them first then decided. It seemed though, that he’d decided he didn’t like Atlas and that was final.   
  
“Clayton..” Em scolded slightly. “What’s gotten into you?”  
  
“Me?” He stared at her with big eyes. “What’s gotten into you? How can you trust him?” He pointed at Atlas, glaring at him. “He’s just using you! Why can’t anyone see that?!”   
  
“You’ve got it wrong, kid,” O’Riley quickly said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “Atlas is a good person. He’s helping us. I understand if you don’t trust him, I didn’t at first, but he’s not the bad guy here. He’s not Ryan or Fonta-.”  
  
“Stop saying that!” He yelled getting to his feet, fists bunched up. “Stop blaming Fontaine for everything! He helped all of you and you keep blaming him!”  
  
“Fontaine threatened my life and he killed people,” O’Riley bit out, glaring at him. “That man, Henderson, the one who hit you! Fontaine had him killed as soon as you left. He killed a lot of other men for a lot less.”   
  
“No!” Clayton shook his head furiously. “He wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do that!”  
  
“Don’t forget the orphanages…”

  
“Jesus Christ…” Em rubbed at her arms. “I always knew there was something going on with those… I just never thought..”  
  
“Stop it!” Clayton yelled, tears were running down his face, Em looked back at him in surprise, reaching for him but Clayton backed away from her. “Leave me alone! All of you just leave me alone!”  
  
“Clayton!” Em yelled as he ran off upstairs, disappearing inside and slamming the door shut.   
  
Everyone sat in silence staring after him. Em looked distraught. It was the first time she and her son had ever fought like that. It was the first time Clayton had ran away from her. He’d always ran to her for comfort, but now he ran away. He couldn’t accept the truth. He couldn’t accept that Fontaine was or had been a truly awful person. Probably because he never saw it.   
  
Clayton had never seen the depravities that Fontaine would go to and comfortably go to. He never seemed to have an issue with overstepping lines or rubbing lines out. He did what he wanted and what would earn him money, other people be damned. Though, Emilie would admit, Clayton had brought out a softer side in the man. A side, she had no doubt, that Frank had hated. Despised with a passion, but he still didn’t treat Clayton badly.   
  
“I should go and talk to him,” she mumbled, setting her food down, but O’Riley shook his head.   
  
“It’ll do him some good. He needs to know the truth.”   
  
“You don’t understand, Clayton looked at up to Fontaine like a father…” she rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Hell, right after he found out he’d died, he sobbed he wanted his ‘Papa’ back. What am I supposed to say to that?”   
  
There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them. O’Riley looked deeply troubled as did Em. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to her son. At some point he had to accept that Fontaine had done all those awful things, but right now wasn’t the right time. As far as he was concerned he’d just lost his father and he wouldn’t be open to listening to anyone. Not even her. He was angry. Angry at Ryan and angry at anyone who decided to badmouth Fontaine.   
  
Atlas put his finished plate down, standing up and straightening himself out. He walked towards the stairs wordlessly, no one tried to stop him. He had a determined look on his face that also held concern. Emilie watched him quietly and when he saw him step towards the door Clayton had ran to, she stood up herself, but Atlas raised his hand and shook his head.   
  
“It’s me he’s angry at,” he said, shrugging a little.   
  
With that he entered inside, all the beds were empty save for the one at the end. Clayton was curled up and by the looks of his back and shoulders, he was crying. Holding himself and sobbing into his pillow.   
  
Frank knew that, logically it should be his mother dealing with this, not him. He needed to regain Clayton’s trust though. The boy was angry because he was grieving and he was taking it out on him because Atlas was a new person. It was easier to take it out on a new person who you didn’t trust.   
  
Frank could understand that. He’d done it himself when it came to mourning, he understood the anger too. Anger was his way of grieving. He skipped over every other emotion and went straight there. Usually he’d take it out on pieces of furniture, but it seemed the boy wanted to blame someone for everything that had happened. So he’d chosen himself.   
  
Ironic that. Being yelled at for causing your own death. It certainly was a new one for him.   
  
He sat down at the edge of Clayton’s bed, the boy tensed up and glared at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move.   
  
“Hey lad…” he said softly, looking the child over who fiercely looked away from him, glaring at the wall. He was going to be stubborn about it, Frank could tell. About time he grew some stubbornness, but right now it wasn’t helping. “Look, I understand ya’ angry.. but takin’ it out on all of them, isn’t goin’ to bring ya… Da back,” he almost winced at that. He did not feel guilty. He would not feel guilty for putting Clayton through this, but he already had, hadn’t he? That was what the crossbow had been about. A carefully vailed apology to the boy for making everything worse. “You can’t cut ties with the folk down there. Especially ya’ Ma. She loves ya. Loves you so much, why you see it clear as day.”  
  
“She doesn’t understand.”   
  
He paused a moment. No. He supposed Em didn’t understand, at least not fully. She could understand loosing a parent, but she didn’t quite get it from a child’s perspective that hadn’t had parents to begin with. It was different. Loosing someone so violently and so deliberately. Technically Fontaine wasn’t gone, he was sitting right next to the boy, he just didn’t recognise him.   
  
Frank mentally patted himself on the back for being so unrecognisable that Clayton couldn’t even see his own father figure sitting next to him.   
  
Still, now was not the time or the place.   
  
“I don’t think you give ya’ Ma enough credit, lad…” he spoke cautiously. “I dare say she’s lost people too.”  
  
“It’s not the same!” Clayton whimpered curling up on himself. “Leave me alone! I _don’t_ want to talk to you!”   
  
He fell quiet, looking Clayton over, studying him. He really was so very upset. Frank would have to pull all the stops out for this one, might even mean being more truthful with Clayton than he’d ever been with anyone. Even Reggie and Limey.   
  
Could he do it? Could he open that door? Jump down that rabbit hole of his background and bring those memories to the surface. Was it worth it?  
  
He glanced at Clayton again.   
  
Sighing, Frank rubbed at his eyes. Yes, it was worth it.   
  
Mentally preparing himself for his little trip down memory lane, Frank bowed his head, clasping his hands together loosely.   
  
“When.. I was a lad…” he started, swallowing to keep himself together. “My Da and Ma left me at an orphanage… my Da just.. threw me away,” he paused a second, hands clenching tightly together, but Clayton’s sobbing had stopped. He knew he had the boy’s attention as soon as the word ‘orphanage’ left his mouth. “They threw me away ‘cos they didn’t want me no more. That place was hell, ironic, to say it was run by nuns,” he rubbed his thumb over his scarred and damaged knuckles. A few of them were slightly out of place from where they’d healed not quite right after they’d been broken. “They used ta discipline ya with a ruler. Flat end. Edge end. Din’t matter ‘o course to them. Me knuckles got awful busted and bruised, as ya can see…” he held his hands out, not sure if Clayton was looking or not, but not caring all too much either. “They’re still marked by it even now. Well, one day I had enough, so I ran. Ran as far as I could, bout round your age I did this. Then, I started ta’ work behind the stage. Gotta earn some money some how, ya see?”   
  
The stage. The theatre. The gateway to a whole new world and a new perspective on life. In the end, it became a place where he’d had most of his joy as a child. Then it became a place that held all of his sorrow. Whatever amount of childlike emotion he’d had in his body he’d felt like he’d used it all up in that place. All the happiness, all the sadness, all the joy. That place had robbed him of it all, just because of one person’s selfless act and another person’s selfish one.   
  
“Well, anyway,” he continued, eyes not really focusing on anything. “I worked backstage. Earned me pennies and sausages. Used a pile of ropes as me bed, not comfortable at all I tell ya’, but I made do. Just me against the world and then… I met her,” he smiled a little. “Ms Chlo. The finest actress I’d ever seen. She was one of the few that treated me like a person. Like a child. Much the same way your Ma did for you. She gave me hope, taught me everything she knew,” he laughed shaking his head. “There was a time in me life I wanted to be an actor… she promised to take me to the stars. She promised she was going to take me to broadway, that I was so talented I’d get there by meself. She loved me, just like Em loves you. I did look to her as me mother,” the smile was slipping off his face now. Hands clasped together angrily. “It wasn’t meant to be.” “What happened…?” Frank looked at Clayton who was staring at him, sat up too. “She died. Murdered!” He spat the word out. “All because some bastard wanted to get his leg over! He pushed her down the stairs ‘cause she’d said ‘no’! That son of a bitch stole her form me he-!” Frank stopped, realising his accent had almost slipped and he was starting act and sound more like ‘Fontaine’. Atlas wouldn’t do that. “Sorry lad, just makes me angry.. even now. Ya see the bastard wasn’t convicted. It was ruled an accident. That she’d tripped down the stairs and broken her neck, but I knew the truth, I saw it all…” he frowned. “But no one would believe a stage hand like me,” _so I dealt with his punishment myself_ , he added in the privacy of his own mind. “So ya’ see… I don understand a little. Heh. That’s the first time I’ve ever told that story to anyone…”   
  
Frank almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Clayton quickly hug him and hug him tightly. A child’s way of comforting someone. It seemed that he might have won Clayton’s trust a little with that story, but for him he felt like his head was spinning. He’d never told anyone that. Ever. Limey and Reggie sure as hell didn’t know. That was probably the most honest he’d ever been in his life, even if he did leave out the murder at the end.   
  
“I’m sorry, Atlas,” Clayton looked up at him earnestly. “I’m so sorry. You… you lost your Mama…”   
  
“I did and you lost ya Da,” he rubbed his shoulder gently. “We’ve both been through it, lad. I understand how ya’ feel better than you think. I was just the same. I was angry at everything and everyone. Yellin’ and screamin’, so much that in the end I drove people away,” not technically true. He had been angry and yelled at everyone, but Frank had been the one to run away. “I couldn’t get justice fer my Ma, but I can help you get justice for ya Da.”   
  
Clayton was silent, but he moved to sit next to Atlas, looking at the floor and clasping his hands much the same way Frank had. There was a deeply thoughtful look on his face, but he looked troubled too.   
  
Sighing, Clayton closed his eyes. “I’m just so angry…” he admitted. “I’m so angry… at everything! At Ryan… At Mister Fontaine.. the splicers- everyone! I liked my life. It was nice, I had everybody I could ever want or need. I had my family… I was happy,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “And Ryan took it all away. Why did he do that? Why did Mister Fontaine have to be there, why couldn’t he be scared and hide?” He looked up at him with big round eyes. “I don’t mean to be angry at you, Atlas… I just..”  
  
“I know,” he smiled, “I know better than anyone, lad. You have every right to be angry. The trick, is learnin’ to direct that anger. You’re angry at Ryan? Good. He’s the one that’s done all this. It’s his fault. As fer Fontaine…” he paused and looked away from him. “I’d say… he was a complicated fellow. Not as cut and dry as everyone liked to think. You certainly saw a side of ‘im that I don’t think anyone did. Should count ya’self lucky, but you’re not stupid,” he looked at him with unnerving frankness. “My guessin’ is ya’ already know what sort of a man Fontaine was. But knowing and admittin’ are two different things entirely. Now’s not the right time, but it’s also not the right time to be pushin’ everyone away. They only want what’s best for ya’. That’s all any parent ever wants,” he gently urged Clayton to get up and walked him to the door. “Now, you go down there and apologies to ya Ma. She’s awful worried ‘bout ya, boyo and if you have any more issues with me, ya’ come and take ‘em up with me directly. No point getting mad at someone that’s only got ya best interests at heart.”   
  
Clayton looked at him as he opened the door and for the first time he smiled at Atlas. “I like you, Mister Atlas,” he said. “You’re not as bad as I thought…”   
  
“I thank you kindly fer that,” he gestured towards the stairs. “Now off ya’ go.”   
  
Clayton beamed and nodded, quickly running down the stairs and engulfing his mother in a hug.   
  
Well, it seemed like Fontaine had dealt with that issue. Now the kid was more trusting and all it took was being more open with him. Absently he ran his fingers over his busted and scarred knuckles, watching the sickly scene of mother and child from his vantage point. He wondered idly if talking to the kid so openly about his past was a good thing. If it was effect him in some way. It shouldn’t. He was better than that.   
  
Still, with Clayton on his side, it meant that his mother would be too soon. She’d follow her little boy anywhere and she’d follow her heart. In some ways, getting Clayton to trust him would also improve his chances of Em trusting him because sitting down and talking to the kid, well wasn’t that what ‘fathers’ did? Frank wouldn’t know, he never had one, but he assumed that’s what they did. He’d read enough books.   
  
Father… he shuddered slightly. He felt bad for the kid really. He couldn’t have picked a worse father figure. Maybe things wouldn’t work out so bad and in the end him and Clayton would be fine. Damn it all, Frank hated that he cared about the kid. Couldn’t do anything about it now, but it wasn’t a problem. No, not really. He was a talented actor but there was some things you just couldn’t fake.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement. Spinning around, alarmed, only to find… nothing. That was crazy. He could’ve sworn he saw something. Something… shimmering and moving just out of sight.   
  
Frank shook his head. He’d been spending too much time around the splicers, he was starting to catch their crazy.   
  
He decided to ignore it and rejoined the others in his jolly old Atlas act, not noticing the shimmering flicker of light he’d just seen reappear again. Nor did anyone notice the two observers that now watched over them liked spectres. It was almost like the two observers weren’t there at all to begin with.   
  
“So the conman returns.”  
  
“Actor. He prefers to think of himself as an _actor_.”   
  
“That’s a nice word for _liar_ wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
“Quite. I believe there is very little about the man that’s original.”  
  
“Or true.”   
  
Just as soon as these spectres appeared, they vanished, like they’d never been there to begin with.

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_A Man or a Parasite:_   
  
_What is the difference between a Man and a Parasite? A Man builds. A Parasite asked, “Where is my share?” A Man creates. A Parasite says, “What will the neighbours think?” A Man invents. A Parasite says, “Watch out, or you might tread on the toes of God…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone have a guess who the two 'observers' are? :)
> 
> I'll be updating chapters every Sunday instead of everyday just until I get very far ahead in this. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Stay tuned for more instalments.


	3. There are Such Things

_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Marketing Gold:_   
  
_I’ll admit Fontaine showed some foresight when he built up the Plasmid business, but the man really never understood sales. Hiding those little girls beneath a bushel. I’ve just seen the preliminary design work on the new Plasmid machines, and they’re exactly what I wanted. Mark my words - presented properly, those Little Sisters are marketing gold._

* * *

  
_“Hey Mary. Everything okay?”_  
  
 _“Did you hear that Andrew Ryan took control of Fontaine Futuristics?! I’m hopping mad!”_  
  
 _“Slow down there, little lady.”_  
  
 _“Sorry, John, but I’m real upset. We came to Rapture to get away from government muscling in on private business people.”_  
  
 _“Sure thing, Mary. But Andrew Ryan didn’t “take control” of anything. The government council just assumed stewardship of Fontaine Futuristics until all of Frank Fontaine’s crimes and betrayals against the people of Rapture are sorted out. Pretty soon, everything will be back to normal!”_  
  
 _“Really? Well, that’s a weight off my shoulders!”_  
  
 _“Remember, Mary - doubting the Council only emboldens the band-.”_   
  
“I’m gettin’ real sick of those commercials,” Kyburz mumbled as he switched the radio off in the Fighting McDonagh. No one complained, mostly because they all agreed too.  
  
One month. An entire month of Fontaine being dead and Em becoming one of the most wanted people in Rapture but she hadn’t surfaced. Kyburz wondered just where the hell she’d ended up. If she and Clayton were both safe. Her home had been torn apart and quickly. Everything had been searched but none of the plans for Ryan’s Gate were found. Kyburz knew why of course, she’d burnt them right there in front of him. The only person who knew how the Gate worked was her and her alone. She hadn’t shared her plans with anyone. Certainly hadn’t shared them with him.   
  
Bill sighed, nodding his head as he put the radio under the counter. He was thinking of leaving it down there at all times now days. Not that it was stopping Ryan. He was now not just using the Rapture Radio service that he owned but also the public address system. It was all getting a little too much for Bill. He was watching both Rapture and Ryan spiral dangerously out of control, with Ryan refusing to listen to him. Refusing to listen to anyone.   
  
What was the point of a council if you weren’t going to listen to anyone anymore. Kyburz had resigned, Bill had too, though Bill was still allowed to go and talk to Ryan. He was still in the know of everything going on. Both in the public eye and behind the scenes. Not that Ryan was hiding much anymore.   
  
“You see the machine they were puttin’ up?” He asked Kyburz while he picked up another drink. “Them… Gathers Garden Machines…?”   
  
Kyburz winced into his drink. “Don’t remind me. I knew that bastard Fontaine was up to something with those orphanages I just never imagined..”   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And then Ryan keeps them open! Keeps them going, using those innocent girls as… as… ADAM factories! Using them as goddamn advertisements! You know, they’re even selling dolls now, Bill? Dolls! In the Department Store!”   
  
“I saw ‘em,” he nodded his head gloomily. “Me and the wife went in to buy some toys for the squeaker and… we just turned around and walked right out the door the moment we saw ‘em.”  
  
“It’s sick…” Kyburz hissed, he looked up and glared a little. “Why did he keep them open?”  
  
“ADAM, Kyburz. Plasmids,” Bill placed a glass on the bar top and poured some whisky in it, before he topped Kyburz’s glass up. “Them little girls… they aren’t… they aren’t children to him,” he winced as he said, feeling like he was doing Ryan a great betrayal by saying these things, but that’s what it’d come to. “They’re an investment.”  
  
Kyburz was silent, staring back into his drink. He looked a lot like he was trying to find the answer at the bottom of the bottle and was failing miserably. He also looked rough, like he hadn’t been taking care of himself. Bill knew that Kyburz felt guilty about what happened with Em, but it wasn’t the man’s fault. Neither of them had known that Ryan would call out a man hunt for her and the moment they’d found out, they risked everything to get her to safety. Wherever that was.  
  
Bill tilted his glass and stared into the alcohol like Kyburz. Seeing his face reflected back at him in the amber liquid. He looked a hell of a lot older now than he had when he first came down here. Withered. His eyes were sunken and dark, skin pale from lack of sunlight. He looked like a corpse that had forgotten to die.   
  
Sighing he gulped the alcohol down, slamming the empty glass on the table top, looking over at Kyburz who still hadn’t looked up from his drink. Bill honestly felt sorry for the man. He always had the best intentions at heart. Kyburz never did anything out of spite or to get above everyone, he was very much a team player. Competitive when he needed to be, as well as organised, but he tried to do the right thing.   
  
Bill was starting to find that the ‘right thing’ in Rapture could very well end up being the ‘wrong thing’ and also the last thing you ever did.   
  
“Chin up mate,” Bill smiled at him or at least tried to. “I bet ya everythin’ will work itself out.”   
  
“You don’t really believe that do you?” Kyburz asked, staring at Bill like he was insane. “Look around you,” he gestured to the bar. “I remember when this place was packed every day. The Hephestus lot and the Fishermen would come in, sure we’d have a few tussles, but for the most part we played games. Sang songs. Girls would come here to dance with their dates. Hell, even Andrew Ryan came and mixed with the commoners every so often. Now look at it,” he gestured again, glancing around this time at the empty seats and tables. “It’s a ghost town, Bill. The only people thriving are the rich, up in Market Street and High Street. Fort Frolic. All those places, but everywhere else?” He looked down at his drink again. “It’s dead and it’s spreading, like a.. like an infection.”  
  
“You’re being a bit dramatic there, mate,” Bill said, frowning a little at him. “Optimism. Helps in times like this.”   
  
“Yeah well, there’s optimism and then there’s denial,” Kyburz replied. “You need to add a dash of realism to your view of things,” he frowned in thought, scratching at his chin. “And then there’s this Atlas…. He’s just stirring up trouble…”  
  
“Can you blame him?”   
  
“No, I suppose I can’t… but he’s only going to make things worse. I spoke to Daniel the other day, apparently they’re putting up fliers around the richer parts of the city too now. Peaceful protests for now, but I bet you it won’t stay that way,” he took a swig of his drink. “Considering how the rich bastards treated them,” he shrugged, wiping at his chin when some of the alcohol slipped out. “I’d say they brought it on themselves.”   
  
“Not all of them.”  
  
“You think they’re going to differentiate?” He rose an eyebrow. “You honestly think Atlas’s crew are going to care?”   
  
“No… I suppose not…” Bill sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He just wanted this to end. For All of it to end. “I’m gonna have to try to talk to Ryan.”  
  
“And say what?”   
  
“Ask him to give over Fontaine Futuristics to Atlas’s boys as a peace offering. Stop it before it escalates.”   
  
Kyburz gave him an almost pitying look and Bill didn’t very much care for it. In the back of his mind he was wholly aware that it was a waste of time. That no matter what he said, Ryan wouldn’t pay any attention to him now. He’d use some sort of excuse, but they were running out of options. There was a war on the brink. You could feel it on the air and whenever Bill went down to do maintenance on the poorer areas, he’d either find them already done or he’d just be glared at. Sometimes the splicers would stalk him along the ceiling. They were starting to call those lot ‘spider splicers’ because they sure looked like a spider when they creeped out of the darkness.  
  
Hell, all the splicers were getting bad, not just the spider splicers. When you looked at the list it was scary how far people had gone on Fontaine’s products and now Ryan was selling them. Selling them as a new product and completely safe. That everything wrong with Fontaine’s product had been corrected and now they no longer had any negative side effects. Bill had a feeling it was all just lies to keep people interested.   
  
“We got to try and stop it somehow, mate,” Bill reasoned with Kyburz. “If you ‘aven’t noticed, that Atlas fellow has most of the splicers on ‘is side.”  
  
“Hm. Splicers…” Kyburz mumbled, a frown crossed his face. “How many types we got now? Because it’s not just the psychos with the plasmids is it? It’s the ones with the tonics too.”   
  
“Yeah… Leadhead, Thuggish, Nitro and Spider Splicers..” Bill shook his head in despair. “I mean, it’s mighty tempting. That Plasmid or Tonic that helps the loonies stick to the walls would be useful for me but…”  
  
“But you don’t trust Ryan?”   
  
“…I don’t trust the scientists he’s got under his employ.”   
  
Kyburz hit him with a level look. “You don’t trust Ryan.”   
  
Both men froze as the door to the pub open, but it was just Sullivan. He looked warn out and tired. Worse than he did last year and he smelled faintly of smoke.   
  
The man didn’t say anything to them, just sat down heavily on a stool and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, carelessly tossing it on the bar top.   
  
“Drink Chief?”   
  
“I’d kill for one.”  
  
“Rough day?” Kyburz asked as Bill took out a glass and poured Sullivan a drink.  
  
“You could say that,” he pushed the paper to Kyburz. “Read that. Ryan just gave it to us today. You know… to help?” He laughed picking up the drink Bill offered him and almost drinking it all in one go. “He’s out of his fuckin’ mind.”  
  
“What is it?” Bill asked as he watched Kyburz open it and his mind widened.  
  
“Signs of a splicer on the rise..” He mumbled. “It’s a list of all the side effects from the Plasmids…”   
  
Bill winced a little. “Do I want to know?”  
  
“I mean it might prove useful…” Kyburz mumbled, straightening out the paper to read it. “Side effects of Plasmids and Tonics. Keep your eye out for splicers on the rise. Bleeding from the eyes, nose and mouth. Blindness, crystal formations on skin, cutis laxa-.”  
  
“What’s that?”   
  
“Where ya skin sags,” Sullivan mumbled gesturing to his face. “You’ve seen ‘em, Bill. The dame’s faces that hang and droop.”  
  
“Right,” he nodded, grimacing a little. “Keep going.”   
  
Kyburz sighed and nodded. “Death, hair loss, hair patches, hallucinations, heterochromia iridum,” he looked at Bill and rose an eyebrow at him in question.   
  
Bill shrugged back at him.   
  
“The eye colour changes.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“Yeah I didn’t know what that was,” Sullivan mumbled. “Thanks for clearing that up.”  
  
“Welcome… anyway…” Kyburz straightened the paper out again. “Hormone imbalance, insanity, insomnia, jaundice..?”   
  
“Eyes,” Bill said. “Ya’ eyes and skin go yellow.”  
  
“Lovely. Ah… lesions, memory loss, paranoia, rashes, shingles, spider veins, swollen gums, syndactyly…?” He frowned at the paper. “What the hells that?”  
  
“You got me,” Bill shrugged at him.   
  
Sullivan laughed. “I asked one of the boys about that one… apparently it’s when fingers and toes.. fuse together?” He tilted his head almost questioning himself. “Yeah.. that’s it. The skin and muscles fuses the fingers and toes together, but it looks like them splicers are taking it a step further by fusing their bones too.”   
  
Shaking his head in dismay, Kyburz continued. “Tooth loss, tumours, varicose veins and vitiligo.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Apparently it’s when the darker skins tones get light skin patches,” Sullivan shrugged. “Seen a few myself… it’s not the worst mutation that can happen. Accordin’ to the docs, it happens naturally sometimes too. To anyone..” He gestured between them all. “Us lost would have patches that look as white as paper.”   
  
Bill looked at the list and frowned. “Why’d you even get given a list like that?”  
  
“Why’d you think?” He laughed. “Them new Plasmids ain’t safe. They’re the same as the old Plasmids,” he gulped the rest of his drink down, laughing bitterly. “Only difference is, Ryan want’s us more on the ball so.. ya’ know, no bad publicity. Spot it before it becomes an issue.”   
  
“And then what?”   
  
Sullivan shrugged. “Ryan’s got a plan. He’s… gonna make one of the buildings a prison.”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “He’s bein’ really tight lipped about it. I just know it’s happening and happening soon.”   
  
Kyburz looked over the list again. “Says nothing here about ghosts…”   
  
“Ghosts?” Bill blinked at him and glanced at Sullivan who looked equally as confused. “What are you going on about, ghosts?”  
  
“It’s Pablo… he’s insisting he’s seeing ghosts.”   
  
“Well, hallucinating is on the list.”   
  
“No, it’s not like that and it’s not just him. A few of the other workers have been seeing it too. At the exact same time and the exact same thing…” he frowned handing the list back to Sullivan. “I don’t know what to make of it… but it, it’s not a hallucination. I know that much. There’s gotta be a scientific reason for it right?” He looked to the other two for help. “I mean, there’s gotta be- what the hell!?”  
  
Kyburz shot out of his seat and stared behind Bill. He held a look of shock and horror on his face, before it was replaced by confusion. Bill and Sullivan glanced at each other, Bill looked behind him only to see the same corridor leading to the storage room that had always been. Nothing horrific or terrifying.   
  
“Did you see that?”  
  
“See what?”   
  
“T-there was something,” the Aussie pointed down the corridor. “Just a flicker of light just appeared and… and it was shimmering and moving!”  
  
“How much have you had to drink?” Sullivan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.   
  
“Not that much!” Kyburz snapped indignantly. “I swear to you I saw something!”   
  
“Well it’s not there now.”  
  
“Comforting.”   
  
“I’m just sayin’,” Bill rose his hands up in defence. “I can’t see anything is all, mate.”   
  
Kyburz sank in his seat, banging his head on the bar top and let out a long suffering sigh. “I hate this city…”  
  
“I’ll drink to that…” Sullivan mumbled, raising his glass half heartedly, Kyburz doing the same, though he didn’t lift his head up from the bar top.   
  
Bill didn’t. He still saw Rapture for what it was and what it could be. How beautiful this place had been at the start and just one man’s ambition had destroyed it. He still had hope. He loved Rapture. He knew it could be more than what it had turned into. It could be so much more and all it needed was someone to give it a push in the right direction.

* * *

  
“Quickly children, quickly!” Tenenbaum said, turning to the girls she had trailing behind her. “We must hurry. So no one sees us.”   
  
The Little Sisters stared back at her innocently. Their eyes big and glowing a sickly yellow because of the ADAM slugs inside them. Their skin a discoloured grey, little pinafores neatly put together in arrange of different colours. Blue, pink, green and red. Some even had their hair done up with ribbons of matching colours.  
  
Brigid stared at them, feeling the hatred rising up under her skin again. Hatred for herself, for what she’d done to these poor innocent children.   
  
Earlier in the evening, Tenenbaum had seen one of the Sisters playing and she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t keep doing what she was doing to these girls. Brutalising them and robbing them of their childhood. Brigid had made up her mind then and there. She was going to get the girls out and get them to safety. Work out a way to get rid of the slugs in their bellies without killing them and free them from this tormented existence.   
  
She’d had to trick the guards into leaving, making them think she was going to do unspeakable things with them and they left their posts gladly. Then she snuck all the girls out of the facility, thankfully because it was so late, no one but the guards and herself had been around. She’d gotten them all into a bathysphere and taken them to a safe space. A place where no one would be able to find them, but it did mean rushing through Apollo Square, which was where they were now.   
  
“Hurry, come along,” she urged, darting towards the exit to Olympus Heights where she knew of a place that could keep them safe. She’d have to sneak out to get some bunk beds and food, but that wouldn’t be so hard yet. It would become more difficult once she was found out. Then they’d have to be more careful, but she had no doubt that other children would suffer because of her sins.   
  
One thing at a time. She’d saved these girls, she’d figure something out to recuse anymore.   
  
The twenty little girls eagerly followed after her. A few of them were carrying blankets and some of their favourite toys. Some of the younger ones held onto the hands of a few of the older ones. Once the girls were safely hidden she’d grab a few things from her home in Mercury suites and join them. Some of her own bedding and blankets to keep the children warm, the food she had that wouldn’t spoil and of course as much of her scientific equipment and notes. To free the children from this fate she’d damned them to.   
  
There was only one child she could not save. The boy, Jack, the one that Fontaine had her and Suchong work on. Something about his Ace, not that it would be much good now. Fontaine was dead after all. Still, little Jack had been aged up to an adult twenty year old man in the space of a year. His mind altered and altered again, though Suchong played more of a part in that. They made that boy up from scratch to what Fontaine had wanted. Another child she’d brutalised and robbed of his childhood. At least with the girls when she worked out how to free them, would still be able to salvage their childhood, but that little boy could never get to experience his.   
  
She recalled that Fontaine had given Suchong a back story to install in the child. So he didn’t know where he’d come from or what he was. So he wouldn’t know _who_ he was.   
  
Brigid remembered the time that the conditioning had worked and Suchong had made the child kill its own puppy. Little Jack had broken his sweet little puppy’s neck without hesitation. He’d been almost inconsolable that day. He wouldn’t stop crying. Fontaine had been pleased that the boy had responded to the cue, but he’d been oddly subdued about it. He’d sat with Jack for an hour and eventually managed to calm the boy down, even saying he’d get him another dog.   
  
Little Jack had shook his head frantically, saying that he didn’t want any more pets because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to hurt or kill anything else. He’d begged Fontaine not to give him any more pets, sobbing in-between his pleas.   
  
Fontaine didn’t. Instead he bought the child toys for him to play with and a bear. Jack had calmed down a little, but he still got scared every time Suchong entered the room. He’d even tried to hide behind her once, before hiding behind Fontaine and Frank had surprised her by telling Suchong to lay off. There was no point in torturing the child further, he’d done enough.   
  
Still, that act of kindness hadn’t lasted. One month after he insisted they get little Jack ready and they had. Suchong wiped all memories of Rapture, fed him the false life Fontaine had come up with. The ideal family life, the American dream, living on a farm in Kansas with his two parents and then Jack, not so little anymore, had been placed in a submarine and set topside. That was the last she’d seen him and she doubted she’d ever see him again. He’d be the one sin she could not repent. The one she could not undo.   
  
Shaking her head to clear it of all her troubling thoughts for just a moment, she lead the children into an underground passage, but there was a problem. A splicer was there.  
  
It turned around and grinned, the girls had screamed and clung to Tenenbaum in fear. The splicer, one with the fish hooks that people had taken to calling Spider Splicers, looked elated. No doubt it could smell the ADAM residing in the children.   
  
The junkie had tried to grab at them, but Tenenbaum pulled a gun from her coat and shot it down. Three or four gun shots it took, but the splicer finally fell and stopped moving. Brigid shot it in the back of the head for good measure.   
  
She stuffed the gun back in her pocket, turning to the little girls that had curled up together, shaking and crying. Twenty pairs of glowing yellow eyes had stared at her in fear. That ball of hatred rose up once more, almost too much for Brigid to handle, tears coming to her eyes.   
  
The Little Sisters, the Big Daddies, the Splicers and Jack… it was all her fault. She’d found the ADAM in the first place.   
  
“I’m sorry!” She spluttered, crouching down to their height. “I’m so sorry… I… what things we have done… what things…”   
  
Brigid covered her mouth with her hands, eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears. She couldn’t believe she’d done all this. That she’d done all of this and for what? For science? What was the point? Had they truly gained anything?   
  
She jumped a little when a little hand touched her shoulder. Looking up, she found the girls had all approached her, some still clinging to each other.  
  
“Mama Tenenbaum?” The little girl asked, hand still on her shoulder, she tilted her head. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m so sorry…” she raised her hand up and pushed a strand of the girl’s hair out her face. “I’m so sorry.. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done- for everything I’ve done to you… I… I know I cannot make it right,” she shook her head. “But I’ll try to fix it. I’ll fix you, I promise.”   
  
The Little Sister smiled at her, they always did seem to smile and gravitate to her. Suddenly the child had engulfed her in a hug and Brigid froze. She did not deserve their forgiveness or kindness, but slowly it felt like the warmth was creeping back into her body. She’d been so distant and frigid. Almost acting like a robot more than a person.   
  
She raised her arm and the sleeve rolled up, revealing the number she had on her wrist from the her time at the German prison camp. All the people she’d seen die, all the experiments that she’d done on fellow prisoners, because she hadn’t found tormentors in the prison camp but kindred spirits. She’d always been a prisoner though, hadn’t she? Always.   
  
Brigid was damaged and scarred, just like these girls. She was just like them.   
  
Her arms wrapped around the little girl and she pulled her close. Soon the other girls followed and huddled around them, hugging Brigid tightly.   
  
She’d fix this. She had to fix this and once she’d freed the girls from their tormented existence, she’d figure out a way to get them to the surface. She’d save them and correct her mistakes as best she could.  
  
“It’s okay, Mama Tenenbaum,” one of the children spoke up. “You don’t have to be sad.”   
  
Oh if only they knew. Brigid Tenenbaum wasn’t sad. She was angry. She was angry at a lot of people and a lot of things, but mostly she was angry at herself.   
  
“Thank you little ones,” she whispered horsely, breaking away from them and gently leading them towards the doors. “Let us find our new home. We shall make it safe for you all. I promise.”   
  
“Can we make a fort?”  
  
“Yes, you can make a fort,” she paused a second. “Once we are all settled… we shall go through everyone’s names, but first we must set up our home. Come along.”   
  
The place she’d found had two floors. The first floor wasn’t much, but the second floor had two rooms. One was small, which Tenenbaum would use as her room, the second room was big and had plenty of ventilation entrances and exits. This way they’d kept plenty of warmth and oxygen, there was even lights. It was very plane for now, but Tenenbaum was certain she could make it work.   
  
“This is our new home children,” she said gently. “We’ll be safe here and no one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

* * *

  
Kelly huffed and chucked her apron on her sofa, kicking her shoes off while she closed the door.   
  
Waitressing. That’s what she’d been reduced to. There was no other job she could get and she’d been forced to take up waitressing for not one but two different Dinars. One of them was a posh place on High Street, the Watched Clock, the other was a bar, just round the corner where she lived, The Mermaid Lounge.   
  
Kelly rubbed at her sore feet, she’d never been on her feet that long in heels. She was starting to see why Em had hated wearing the damn things now.   
  
At the thought of her best friend, Kelly frowned. She didn’t know what had happened to Em. The last thing she’d been told by Opal was that Kyburz had explained to Daniel that Em was a wanted criminal. Because she knew the plans to Ryan’s Gate, she built it and Ryan had become so paranoid, he was trying to arrest her. To stop her from selling the plans on to someone else.   
  
According to Opal, Kyburz had told Daniel that there were no plans, because Em had burnt them all. She’d lit every scrap of information to do with Ryan’s Gate on fire and held it all in her head. She’d always been stubborn like that and was probably too proud to even give up the information verbally. She wasn’t like that, never had been, not that Ryan cared. He just wanted her gone and sorted.   
  
Sighing, Kelly stretched out on her sofa, rubbing at her eyes tiredly and undoing her hair so it fell around her face. Because she’d been on her feet all day, every day for the past month, she hadn’t even been out to the bars. She hadn’t had a good role in the hay in a month. It was starting to get on her nerves, but truth be told, she was just too tired. Her whole body ached every time she got home.  
  
A knock at the door made her jump. She didn’t want to move, but she forced herself to. Wandering over with shakey legs, she looked through the peephole, her eyes widening and Kelly flung the door open.   
  
“Oh my god…” she breathed, quickly pulling O’Riley into a hug, which he hesitantly returned. “Oh my god I thought you were dead.”  
  
“Sorry to disappoint…?”   
  
Kelly whacked him on the back of the head. “I’m not disappointed, you idiot, I’m relieved! I thought you’d gone down in that shootout alongside Fontaine.”  
  
“No,” O’Riley shook his head. “Bolted the moment that bastard went down, we all did. Look, I can’t stay long,” he pulled an envelop out of his pocket and handed it to her. “But Em wanted me to give you this.”   
  
“Em?!” Kelly’s eyes widened and she snatched the envelope. “D-did you see her? Is she okay? Where is she?”   
  
“She’s okay,” O’Riley assured, glancing around nervously. “I can’t tell you where she is, but she’s with me. Both her and Clayton are.”  
  
“Why can’t you tell me?!”  
  
“Because it’s not you I don’t trust, it’s other people,” he glanced around again. “Look I’m risking a lot just being out here, but I’m not nearly as wanted as Em is, so I figured I would drop this off for you. She would’ve done it herself but things are too risky and she didn’t want to risk anyone seeing her and making it difficult for you,” he glanced around again, looking unsure. “Look, I wish I could stay here longer, but I really gotta go. Em and Clayton are safe, she wrote everything in the letter,” he gestured to it, taking a few steps backwards. “I gotta go, Kelly. I’m sorry!”   
  
Before she could stop him, O’Riley was sprinting down the corridor towards the exit.   
  
Kelly looked down at the floor, clutching the envelope tightly in her hand. Walking back inside her apartment, she shut the door behind her, Kelly ripped the envelope open. Reading it as she walked towards her sofa.   
  
_Hey Kells._  
  
 _I’m sorry I have to make this short and that I haven’t been in contact. Everything got crazy and hectic, I didn’t have time. I just needed to let you know, I’m safe. We both are. Me and Clayton managed to get away and Ryan’s men don’t know where we are, but we’re safe._  
  
 _I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I would’ve contacted you sooner, but it took a while to find somewhere safe. Then I’ve been pretty busy with… things._  
  
 _Are you okay? i’m sure you are, you have a way with words after all, but i want to make sure, if you need help, i… may know someone who can help. They’ve helped me too. Let me know if you’re okay. And if you need help, because i know of a man who can help you. Someone cares, Kelly, you know who it is, look at the capitals and you’ll know who it is._  
  
 _Stay safe. Contact me if you need anything, I can help, we both can._  
  
 _-Em._   
  
Kelly frowned a little, running her eyes along the words. She knew that Em sometimes got English grammar wrong, but for the most part she was okay. Look at the capitals…? Wait a minute.   
  
Are, They’ve, Let, And, Someone… the capitals… A, T, L, A, S..   
  
She almost dropped the letter out of shock.   
  
_Atlas._   
  
Kelly couldn’t believe it. Em had settled with Atlas and his crew. No one knew where they were, no wonder she couldn’t say anything. Atlas was helping people though, that was what Limey had said and what his supporters claimed. He was helping people and fighting against Ryan. More importantly from her point of view, she was helping Em and Clayton.   
  
Kelly let out a sigh of relief and held the letter close. “Thank god you’re okay…” she mumbled, holding the letter tightly. “Oh thank god you’re both okay…”  
  
It was the first bit of relief that she’d gotten in a long time. She’d been dreadfully worried about Em and Clayton, but there was nothing she could do. She’d been stuck and before she could even attempt to help them, they’d disappeared. At least they were safe and Atlas was helping them. Thank god for small mercies.   
  
She looked over the note again. Atlas could help her too, huh? Maybe. She was okay for now, besides, Kelly was a lover not a fighter.   
  
Still, it was nice to know that someone out there cared.

* * *

  
_Roscoe Mullins,_   
  
_The Goddamn People:_   
  
_I had all of these visions, before coming down here, of utopia. Every man with his hand on the Great Chain, the wheel of progress turning - every cliché you can imagine. And what is the first thing that happens when I open up shop? Petty thievery. Now I have to lock all my valuables in the closet. (Remember: 2 - 0 - 7 - 6.) It’s the problem with coming to utopia… is that is still has the people._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know every Sunday but... eh just have this, I'll probably upload whenever I feel like it :) Hope you enjoy!


	4. Brother Can You Spare a Dime?

_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Changing Employers:_   
  
_Fontaine is dead. Hmmm. Bad for Fontaine. Good for Suchong. Play hard to get for a bit, then Mister Ryan get hungry for me. Tenenbaum gone, Fontaine gone, Suchong only one who know all about Little Sisters. Like I said, this very good for Suchong._

* * *

  
“The Department Store?” Em asked as the bathysphere came into the docking bay. She was amazed that Fontaine’s Department Store was sill open to the public, but she supposed it was another place Ryan now owned. He’d be getting all the profits made from this place. He collected all of the assets.   
  
Still, she was surprised Atlas had decided this would be where they’d place another base of operations for them. A peaceful place where they could treat some with medicine and others were given food. They even managed to get actual doctors helping their course now. After all, not all of the Doctors and Nurses were like Suchong, Tenenbaum and Cicil. Some were generally good people who wanted to help others. Like their oath suggested.   
  
Atlas shrugged a little, carrying a box of supplies himself, Em behind him carrying her own boxes with a group of men and her son also with them. Clayton was carrying blankets, his crossbow was strapped onto his back, underneath his backpack bolts safely away in a quiver by his hip. He’d made it himself with some help from a few of the seamstresses they had in their group.  
  
“Not everyone can make it down to our place, Luv and we want to keep the main location secret,” he glanced at her and offered a smile. “This way we reach more people. It’s also in the view of the rich an’ powerful. They’ll see what we’re doin’ first hand. Might be able ta change a few of their minds.”   
  
“Maybe…” she glanced around, keeping herself in the middle of the men so no one saw her and recognised her.   
  
Surprisingly, no one seemed to pay them any attention. Letting the group wonder through and enter the tram without any hassle. Emilie had been expecting some of Ryan’s men to be around, but she hadn’t seen any. Maybe Ryan didn’t care about the Department store as long as he got the Futuristics building and all it’s assets.  
  
Already there were new Plasmids and Tonics lining the shelves. It had only been three months after Fontaine’s death and Ryan was dancing on his grave just about with starting up the Plasmid business again. As far as she could see the Plasmids hadn’t changed much. They were just in shinier packaging. The sleek silver and glass bottles even held an engraved Art Deco image of Ryan’s face on the lid. It was a little disturbing.   
  
Once they arrived in Housewares, the second half of the Department store, they took the elevator up to the right level. This part of the Housewares was more a social section. It held the Manta Ray Lounge, the Fontaine Futuristics and test drive bathysphere departments, the Silver Finn restaurant, which had been closed oddly by Suchong. Now it was sporting several places for Atlas and his effort. One place for medicine, they’d set up tables in the middle and it was already filled with poor, eating and drinking. A long queue started by the makeshift soup kitchen.   
  
“Clay’, lad,” Atlas turned to him. “Take them blankets over to Molly there. She’s puttin’ together collection bags fer some of these folk.”  
  
“Okay, Mister Atlas!” Clayton was darting over to Molly, a sweet girl with blonde hair and freckles. She was in her early twenties and a hard worker. Desperately trying her best to help everyone out.   
  
She’d only been a young teenager when she’d first come down to Rapture with her family, but her father died in a Hephestus related accident and only last year, her mother was killed by splicers. Despite all this, Molly was determined to do her part. She always had a bright smile to flash at you and she tried to see the good in everyone, not to mention how much of a devoted follower she was of Rapture.   
  
“Conners, Tommy, take them boxes to the medical room,” he directed them and they quickly walked over. “Simon, Clarence and Michael, over to the soup kitchen,” Atlas turned to Em and O’Riley who were the only ones left. “O’Riley and Em follow me. We got ourselves the Manta Ray.”  
  
“The Manta Ray Lounge?!” O’Riley asked, sounding surprised and shocked as Atlas walked them over, but sure enough. There it was, the Manta Ray guarded by some of Atlas’s men. “How’d you get this?”  
  
“Well…” Atlas began giving them a coy little smile. “The owner didn’t exactly have much use for it and it’s not the only buildin’ we have. We also got the test drive facility over there,” he nodded. “We’re usin’ it to store things. Other supplies, for… later endeavours.. should it come to that.”  
  
“You mean items for a war?” O’Riley stated as they followed Atlas up the steps to the main part of the Lounge.   
  
“I suppose we ain’t got no better word fer it,” Atlas sighed. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but I think we can all agree that hopin’ fer such a miracle is a waste of time. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m angry with Ryan and I want to make him pay fer what he’s done to us,” he placed his box of food down on the ground, gesturing to Em to do the same near the ever growing pile of supplies. “I mean, look at Em,” he went on. “She built that bastard his damn security and how does he thank her? By callin’ her a whore and then sendin’ out a man hunt for her and her tyke.”   
  
Emilie blushed a little, biting her lip and shrugging. She was amazed that Atlas had remembered that. She was surprised that she’d even told him. It had been the second month into her stay with Atlas and the two of them had been alone. He’d asked her about her life in Rapture and how someone so good ended up working for someone like Fontaine. In the end Em found herself telling him everything. About the sub, about the contract and ball, about her deal with Fontaine, then Ryan and what he’s said and accused her off. She explained why she went to Fontaine and why she’d left before Ryan had a chance to fire her from the place, how as odd as it was, it seemed like the right thing to do. She even told him about New Years and the damn kiss.   
  
By the end of her stories and rants, she apologised. She hadn’t meant to divulge all of that onto the man, but there was just something about Atlas that got you to open up. That got you to tell him everything about yourself and she still trusted him. He didn’t make fun of her or laugh, he simply listened and nodded along, asking questions when he needed some clarification. It was the most open she’d ever been to anyone in her life. Not even Kyburz and Kelly had been able to open her up quite so much, but Atlas just did it with a kind word and gentle touch. He’d placed his hand on top of hers and told her how sorry he was. That she hadn’t deserved anything that she’d gotten, but told her to look at some of the positives. She got Clayton and she was able to screw Andrew Ryan over pretty well.   
  
Em had an idea that twenty three year old Em would be screaming at her for being so goddamn stupid. There was just something about Atlas that made you open up to him. That made you feel like you could trust him, despite not knowing his real name. She didn’t want this feeling to go, however. Em had been so alone and closed off to everyone. Even her own friends. It had felt so good to open up and tell someone everything. It felt so good to allow herself to care and to feel something for once.   
  
As time had gone on she’d open up more and more. Twenty three year old her hadn’t had any friends at first and it had felt amazing to have people she could turn to when she needed help.   
  
She still couldn’t believe that she’d open up to this man so willingly, but like she said, there was just something about Atlas that made you trust him.   
  
Emilie shrugged at O’Riley. “As far as I can tell, he’s brought it on himself. I’m only one case in several,” she gestured to O’Riley who was still carrying his box in hand. “I mean look at you. He’s got a man hunt for you just because you worked for Fontaine. That’s it.”   
  
O’Riley sighed and nodded. “Yeah… I guess…” he glanced down at the box. “I.. I just don’t know if I can handle another… another war…”  
  
“Easy..” Atlas held his hand out and rested another gently on O’Riley’s shoulder. “Easy.. steady ya’self, O’Riley.. you’re not there anymore. Deep breaths..” He nodded his head, his hands were shaking and his breath came out shakily each time.   
  
“So ah…” O’Riley gestured with the box. “I just put this down here too, then?”   
  
“No, that’s comin’ this way,” he directed them to the elevator on the second floor of the lounge. Emilie was surprised. The elevator was to Fontaine’s office upstairs. She’d been inside a few times when she was going over schematics.   
  
As they waited for the elevator to come down, the radio in the other room quietly played some music. It filled the silence around them and Emilie listened to a lovely woman’s voice, softly croon into the microphone that was now being played across Rapture.   
  
_“See the pyramids along the nile, watch the sunrise on a tropic isle, just remember darling all the while, you belong to me….”_  
  
“Nice voice…” O’Riley mumbled. “Here she’s some new.. starlet or something. Works for Cohen. You know, one those disciples.”   
  
“Really?” Em raised an eyebrow at him, looking over at the radio that was still playing the gentle song. “She sounds too nice and too good to be one of Cohen’s.”  
  
“Heh. I know,” he laughed. “There’s a poster in that room of her I think… ‘Cohen’s Songbird’…voice like that, I think she can do better.”   
  
The elevator dinged and they walked inside. The elevator ride was a short once and opened up into Fontaine’s office. It felt weird to be here again. Em could almost see the man sitting at his desk, smell his expensive cologne mixing with the smoke of the cigars he often had. The centre of the room held a replica of the building itself and you had to walk around it to find Fontaine’s posh Art Deco desk, with two lamps at either end. A leather chair was pulled up to the desk and behind it was a huge circle window. The window made up one of the seahorses’s eyes on the outside design.   
  
Emilie felt like an intruder standing here without the man who this office had once belonged to. She stared quietly at the empty seat while Atlas and O’Riley placed the box down in the corner. She could vaguely hear them talking about something. Printing presses or something like that. To make more posters. The box O’Riley had brought up held ink in it.   
  
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the chair. In her mind’s eye she could picture Fontaine sitting there, looking so casual and relaxed. Smirking at her and boasting how he was going to get Rapture, that the city would be in the palm of his hand in a matter of months. Those comments would usually follow up with some sort of flirtatious remark and thus the game they played would begin anew.   
  
Em almost found herself craving those games again and as much as she hated it, she… missed him. In her own way. She didn’t miss the constant flirtatious remarks or quips, but she missed someone she could battle with verbally. She sure missed yelling at him. Whilst he was the cause of much of her stress, he’d also been a great stress relief because she could yell at him. He’d laugh at her and role his eyes, fire back some sort of retort followed by a smirk. She’d glare at him and argue something else and in the end the two of them would be hovering over some schematics. Working together easily and in perfect tandem like they weren’t at each other’s throats not two minutes ago. She’d admit it was an odd set up, but it worked for them.   
  
“You alright luv?”   
  
Blinking back to herself, she turned to find O’Riley and Atlas looking at her, concern flashing in their eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, glancing back at the chair. “Just… odd. Being back here I mean and..” She gestured to the chair. “Fontaine.. not being here.”  
  
“I can imagine it’s awful strange fer ya’,” Atlas soothed, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “But the bastard’s dead. So, more power to the people I say.”   
  
“Here, here!” O’Riley grinned. “We’ll show that posh lot. We’ll show Andrew Ryan! As for Frank Fontaine…” O’Riley spat at the floor. “May he rot in hell!”   
  
“May he rot in hell, indeed!” Atlas nodded, he patted Em’s shoulder and offered a comforting smile. “C’mon darlin’, no point in standin’ round here. There ain’t nothin’ more to be done in this part. Best help the folk down stairs.”  
  
“Yeah…” she nodded, not sounding quite like herself. “Can you… can you just give me a minute?”  
  
“Sure. We’ll see you downstairs.”   
  
The two men left and she stared at the chair. It didn’t move, she didn’t hear anything or anyone. It was just her and them empty room. The lights of Rapture outside casted some shadows across the floor. She walked around so she was staring out of the big round window, the neon signs flashing and dousing her in their luminescent colour. A pink one moment, a red and a purple the next.   
  
Emilie turned back to the chair and slowly, almost cautiously, she sat down in it. Shuffling a little to get comfortable and then she turned back to the room before her, gazing out at the empty office and the model of the Department Store. It made her feel a little powerful, she’d admit that, but for the most part the office just felt cold. Lifeless. Dead. Like Fontaine she supposed.  
  
“I hope you’re happy, you smug bastard…” she mumbled to herself, resting her hands on the desk for a moment. “I hope you’re happy and got just what you wanted. O’Riley’s right… may you rot in hell. Fair enough you had to die, but you didn’t have to take everyone else with you. You didn’t have to take Reggie with you.”   
  
Good old Reggie. Loyal to a fault and look where that loyalty got him.

* * *

  
Bill straightened out his tie again as he walked up to Ryan’s office. The action being born more out of nerves than an actual need. He grimaced and almost gagged when he walked past the corps of Frank Fontaine, pierced on the wall and hanging down for all to see. He was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn on the event of his death, shirt town and ripped, you could see the stitch work that was holding him together.   
  
Shaking his head, he entered through to Ryan’s office, noticing Diane sitting at her desk, busily typing away. She glanced at him and smiled a little, before quickly going back to her work. The engagement ring glistening on her finger and it had been there since 1956 and it was now 1958. You couldn’t even say that Andrew Ryan didn’t have the money to have the wedding, it was easy to see that he just didn’t want to get married.   
  
Bill entered the office, seeing Sullivan was already there, going over the disappearances of the Little Sisters. Tenenbaum had taken them all, no one knew why, but she’d stolen the girls away and they hadn’t seen or heard from either since. Occasionally there would be supposed sightings of her buying food in large quantities, she was sometimes even spotted at some of Atlas’s food banks. These were just rumours so far, they didn’t know for certain.  
  
“Ah, Bill,” Ryan smiled, he seemed almost relieved to see him. “It’s good to see you, how are you holding up?”   
  
“Well enough, Mister Ryan,” he smiled at him. “Them splicers are causin’ a right mess, though. Not to mention that Atlas fellow…”  
  
“Hmm.. yes, Atlas,” Ryan frowned at that, glaring at the table top. “Sullivan and I were talking about that. Also talking about that issue with.. Tenenbaum. That Nazi woman stole all the Little Sisters and now.. we can’t make new ones. Though, there is Suchong..” He waved his hand dismissively. “Not right now, later. This is about something else.”  
  
“What would that be, Guv’?” He asked, taking his seat. Bill took a glance at Sullivan who looked even more washed out. It was like every time Bill saw the man, he’d look just that little bit more tired. Just that little bit more worn out. Like Rapture was sucking the life out of him.   
  
Andrew Ryan himself wasn’t looking too great either. He was looking old. That was the first thought that had entered Bill’s head upon seeing him this time. All the other times he’d seen him as this great man, this unmoving figure of will, but now Ryan just looked old. Old and frail, almost like he was ageing right along side his precious city. It was a sad sight for Bill to witness, Andrew Ryan was his friend, even now. Even though he’d made plenty of bad decisions, Bill still saw him as his friend and he’d always felt a great respect towards Ryan, but now? Now he just pitied the man.   
  
His dream was falling apart in front of him and there was very little that could be done about it. The things that could be done to save it… well, Bill didn’t think Ryan would much like to do or listen to those. It involved things like charity, like leeway and helping the poorer citizens. It was something Andrew Ryan would not do.   
  
“We have the perfect idea for a new prison, Bill,” Ryan explained. “As we know, Persephone has been lost to Lamb and her little collective, but they cannot reach here. It would seem Sinclair had thought enough to stop her from reaching the rest of the city. We do need a prison, however, to capture these bandits and splicers… well,” Ryan shrugged a little and smiled. “Why not the Department Store?”   
  
“Department- Fontaine’s Department Store?” Bill blinked at him. “That one?”   
  
“Yes. It’s perfect, Sullivan tells me that a lot of them have already set up shop there as it is. We will have to do constructing of course. Change things to accommodate them and… fit in security measures.”   
  
“All sounds good to me, Mister Ryan…” Bill said carefully, glancing once more at Sullivan who seemed to be at a loss of what to do. “But wouldn’t that still be dangerous? It’s in a pretty local area of Rapture. A lot of foot traffic and.. a lot of businesses in that place.”   
  
Ryan waved his hand. “Businesses come and go, they’ll simply have to find a new area of Rapture to work in. We are expanding the city as we go and as for the area in which the Department Store is located, well, it’s simple really. We sink it.”  
  
If Bill had a drink in his hand, he probably would’ve dropped it out of shock.   
  
Ryan wanted to sink.. he wanted to sink the department store? Was he mad? The idea of turning it into a prison wasn’t a bad idea as such, they needed a solution and they needed one now, but to sink it? The supports, the beams, the pipes… they weren’t built to sustain that kind of pressure. They’d burst and probably take quite a few people down with them. That was of course if the Department store didn’t just collapse in on itself.   
  
He wouldn’t think like that, Bill realised as he stared back at the pleased look on Ryan’s face. He wouldn’t think like that. He’d think that he was saving his city, that he was being a hero.   
  
“M-Mister Ryan…” Bill began staring at him. “Y.. you can’t sink it too deep, the building’s not built for that kind of pressure, sir and-.”  
  
“Bill, it’ll be fine,” Ryan assured him. “It’s not like we leave any of our men down there. They set up a few turrets and then it’s ready. Of course we’ll have to pick a time to seal it off once Atlas is in there. Along with Fontaine’s men, a lot of them have joined this Atlas. I see that parasites will… drift to other parasites. Like finds like.”  
  
“Pick a time to…” he blinked at him. “Begging ya’ pardon, Mister Ryan but, what… what about the store owners and the shoppers that’d be there?”   
  
“Most of the store owners are spliced anyway and like I said, if they had any sense they’d leave. Why, they’d of already left by now and the customers…” he frowned. “Parasites, the lot of them. They know what Fontaine has done and yet they continue to shop at his stores. No, it must be sunk and them along with it,” he gestured to Sullivan almost like an after thought. “And then Sullivan will send in the splicers we have caught. Most of Fontaine’s lot were splicers anyway and as I said, they’ve joined Atlas now. As far as I can see, Bill,” Ryan said, looking him directly in the eye. “This is exactly what Rapture needs and in the process.. why, we just kill two birds with one stone.”

* * *

  
Clayton was behind the counter for the soup kitchen, putting some of the plates away and piling the dirty ones up to be taken and washed. They’d be washed in the Manta Ray Lounge since it had sinks.   
  
The small little store they’d used for the soup kitchen, that once upon a time had been a newsagent, was filled with a few of the old papers and boxes of storage supplies. String, pens, pencils, a few old magazines were even scattered around, all showcasing over idealistic people smiling happily at the audience who read them.   
  
As the months had passed Clayton had gotten more used to Atlas and he even liked him now. He still missed Fontaine greatly. Being in the Department Store without him made him miss him even more. Atlas, however, wasn’t as bad as he originally thought he was. The Irish man had helped him out with his grief like his Mama did. He even taught him a few tricks when came to avoid being caught by Ryan’s men or Splicers. Way to dodge and use his smaller size to his advantage.   
  
He still didn’t know where Atlas had come from however. He was a mystery, but some mysteries didn’t need to be solved, Clayton had decided. He liked Atlas and he trusted him. That was all there was to it.   
  
“Little mouse…!”   
  
The boy jumped and almost dropped the plates. He looked around, seeing that no one else had noticed or heard the voice, before looking up to the vent entrance that sat above him in the wall.   
  
“Gabriel?”   
  
A pair of glowing eyes appeared out of the darkness as the some what slightly less homicidal splicer stared down at him. Gabriel was friendly or as friendly as a splicer could get. The boy watched as the splicer lifted up a bloody hooked hand and waved at him.   
  
“Hello!”   
  
“Shhh!” He looked around worriedly. “How’d you even get in there.”  
  
“Climbed!” Gabriel chirped rising up so Clayton could see his face better and the smile that fell across his face. “Is little mouse okay?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Clayton nodded, slipping a hand in his pocket and pulled out a pep bar, tossing it up to the splicer who caught it. “Why are you here? It’s dangerous…” he frowned a little. “People might shoot you.”   
  
“Why would people shoot Gabriel?” The splicer asked as it busily undid the pep bar. “Gabriel hasn’t done anything wrong. Not like mean old Mister Ryan.”  
  
“Err..” Clayton rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “P-People often judge by.. faces..” He looked up at Gabriel and the splicer stared back at him curiously.   
  
Gabriel’s face had seemed to of gotten worse. More legions and some spider veins now arched across his face. Even his skin had lost some of its tanned tone, patches of white had shown up.   
  
“Maybe…” Clayton tapped his chin. “Maybe a mask?” He looked around and picked up one of the old advertisement magazines that held a face. He carefully tore the page out, looking around again out of fear, before beckoning to Gabriel. “Okay, come on down- but quiet- that’s not quiet!” He panicked as Gabriel almost launched himself out of the vent and knocked some things over.   
  
“Clay’ you alright?”  
  
“Fine!” Clayton yelled back, glaring a little at the splicer who smiled back at him. Clayton flicked his arm in annoyance. “Bad Gabriel, I said quiet!”  
  
“Gabriel didn’t make a sound,” the splicer argued. “Blame the pots!”  
  
“Ugh…” Clayton facepalmed and glared at the splicer over his hand. “I feel like Mister Fontaine did when he got cranky…” he mumbled, lifting up the page and placing it against Gabriel’s face. The page with the more human looking face on it wasn’t the best improvement, but it might help a little. “Yeah… that… that looks okay? I guess..?”   
  
“Now Gabriel cannot see.”   
  
“I know, I’m gonna poke some eye holes into it,” Clayton held his hand out. “Can I borrow a hook?”   
  
Gabriel handed Clayton one of his blood soaked and gore covered fishing hooks. The boy gagged a little, trying desperately not to think about what was on the end of those hooks and began to puncture some eye holes into makeshift mask. He then cut some holes for some string, pulling up the bits they had in storage for sewing and by the time he was finished he had a makeshift mask for Gabriel.   
  
“Okay…” he mumbled turning back to the splicer. “Here, bow your head a little, let me just…” he reached up and pulled the mask down so it rested over Gabriel’s face. The Splicer’s nose pushed against the paper and Clayton was able to tear it a little so the nose could come from. “Okay..” He took a step back looking over his handy work. “What.. how- how’s that?”   
  
Gabriel blinked innocently behind the mask and tilted his head to the side, studying Clayton a moment. He took his other hook back and jumped up so he was hanging upside down on the ceiling. The mask didn’t fall off, even when Gabriel looked down at the little boy who was staring up at him.   
  
He jumped down to the floor and reached up, tearing a little at the bottom so you could see his mouth and he smiled at Clayton. “Gabriel like!” He cheered, despite Clayton’s frantic waves and instant panic for him to be quiet. “Gabriel love the mask!”  
  
“Shh!” The boy hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Shh! Shush! Gabriel- stop- shhh!”  
  
“Clayton, what is going on in there?” Molly asked as she entered.  
  
“Oh no!” The boy span around and then quickly began pushing Gabriel towards the air vent. “You gotta go, run! Gabriel, you gotta run!”   
  
“Clayton- oh my god!”  
  
“Ohhh….” Clayton span around offered a shy smile to her, while he tried to hide the splicer behind his back. Molly was staring at the splicer with a look of fear and abject horror. The mask hadn’t helped that much then. It probably made Gabriel worse… then again, the man was covered in tatty and blood stained clothes, wielding two blood soaked fish hooks so maybe he was judging the mask a little too harshly. “M- Molly.. I can explain- I.. er…”   
  
Gabriel, helpful as he was, decided to lean over Clayton’s shoulder, grin at her and wave with his blood soaked hook. “Hello!”   
  
Molly shrieked and ran out screaming that there was a crazy splicer in the room with Clayton, while the boy groaned and put his head in his hands. He didn’t move out of the way. They might shoot Gabriel and that wouldn’t be good.  
  
It didn’t take long for Atlas, his mother and Mister O’Riley to come running inside, all with their respective pistols drawn. They looked panicked but stopped short when they saw Clayton standing in front of the splicer looking more sheepish than scared.   
  
“Err…” Clayton shuffled his feet a little, smiling just a bit. “Hi.. Mama, Mister Atlas… Mister O’Riley.. f-fancy seeing you here..” He grinned at them before gesturing to Gabriel behind him. “This.. um.. this is Gabriel.”  
  
“Hello!” Gabriel waved at them again and grinned.   
  
His mum looked shocked and slowly pointed at the splicer. “ _That’s_ Gabriel! I thought you just made him up!?”   
  
“No, Gabriel is quite real…” the splicer said, trailing off a little before leaning forward to look at Clayton. “Is Gabriel real.”  
  
“Somehow,” the boy replied dryly. “Look, I… I know what it must look like, but we have splicers helping us and Gabriel… isn’t… that bad…” he trailed off slowly as Gabriel hooked himself to the ceiling and began to sway back and forth singing a nursery rhyme out of tune. Everyone was staring at him and Clayton blinked once, before shaking his head and turning back to the three adults. “Okay so I’m gonna be honest he’s a little weird, but he’s not dangerous… to me,” he frowned a little. “I’m not…selling this well am I?”  
  
“No lad,” Atlas said shaking his head. “Not really. You want us ta believe that the blood soaked splicer ‘bove ya,” he pointed at Gabriel in question. “Is _safe?!_ ”  
  
“Yeah! He saved me from splicers and from Ryan’s men!” He pointed at Gabriel. “Gabriel killed Ryan’s men before the splicer that you killed attacked me.”  
  
“Splicer!” Gabriel screamed and jumped down next to Clayton, hooks out and looking around skittishly. “Where’s splicer!? Gabriel will tear the stupid fucker apart!”   
  
“There’s no splicer… it’s okay,” Clayton soothed. “I was just telling Mister Atlas, Mama and O’Riley about the time you saved me…”  
  
“Oh!” Gabriel grinned and pointed proudly at himself. “Gabriel saved little mouse from nasty cats! Gabriel was a hero!”   
  
“Gabriel also refers to himself in the third person apparently,” O’Riley mumbled, turning to Atlas and gesturing. “What do we do about this?”   
  
Atlas sighed and shrugged. “It’s not really my choice is it? How do you feel about this, luv?” He turned to Em who was still staring at Gabriel who was standing protectively by her son. “He’s your lad after all? You feel.. comfortable with this?”   
  
“Not really…” she mumbled, taking a few steps towards her son and crouching to his eye level. “You promise he’s not nasty?”  
  
“No.. well, not to me or anyone close to me,” he smiled. “Gabriel kept me safe sometimes when I went exploring and he didn’t hurt me.”   
  
She glanced at the splicer in question who smiled at her. Emilie repressed a shiver and turned back to her son. “You do realise that he might not… stay like that?”  
  
“I know…” Clayton mumbled. “But Gabriel doesn’t like being around people much so… he wouldn’t come near the poor house.”   
  
“It’s true!” Gabriel supplied happily. “People are mean to Gabriel so Gabriel don’t like people much…” he tapped his hooks against the floor. “But Gabriel is good at finding things!” He went down to whisper. “And stealing things.”  
  
Em sighed rubbing her eyes tiredly. “I don’t like it…” she admitted and Clayton looked down sadly. “But something tells me he’d come and visit you anyway. So for now… I’ll allow it,” she pointed at Gabriel warningly. “But if I find one hair out of place on his head… I’ll end you. Understand?”  
  
“Mother hen doesn’t have to worry… Gabriel won’t harm her little chick,” he nodded his head, agreeing with himself. “But Gabriel could help Atlas and little mouse… bring supplies?”   
  
Clayton grinned, looking up at the adults and beamed at them. He was trying to desperately convince them that this was a good idea. That nothing was going to go wrong. Truth was he didn’t know. He didn’t know if one day Gabriel would turn into a complete lunatic, but they had other splicers working with them. Even a frosty splicer, so it would be good to have a spider splicer on their side. Spider splicers were tough after all. One of the toughest kind.  
  
Atlas sighed and nodded his head. He knew it would be useful, it was just convincing the others. Gabriel had just surprised them that was all, he wasn’t dangerous, he was quite safe. The blood and gore coating him aside he seemed almost playful. Like a little kid or a puppy. A very dangerous, highly deranged puppy, but a puppy none the less.   
  
“So… Gabriel can stay?”  
  
“I… suppose. If Atlas is okay with that?”   
  
The Irish man sighed and nodded along. “He might prove useful. Alright lad, ya pet splicer can stay, just keep an eye on him. Lot of folk out there ain’t too keen on splicers.”  
  
“Okay, Mister Atlas!” Clayton beamed and turned to Gabriel. “You can stay. You don’t have to run away all the time now.”   
  
Gabriel clapped his hands together, somehow not stabbing himself or anyone with the fish hooks and as Clayton went walking past the adults, the splicer came along with him. Happily trotting behind him, humming another nursery rhyme.   
  
“Gotta say you surprised me, darlin’,” Atlas spoke, raising an eyebrow at Em. “I wouldda’ thought you’d be livid.”  
  
“I’ll talk to him later, but if Clayton can have a bodyguard that’s more important and… Gabriel seems tame,” she frowned. “For now, at least. I’ll keep an eye on him.”   
  
“Alright…” Atlas nodded, he smiled at the two of them and clapped his hands together. “Well, no time like the present I say. Better get us more of them supplies…” he trailed off as they left the area.   
  
Emilie glanced at Atlas in concern to see the man’s gaze was firmly locked in one direction. She followed it and spotted Suchong leaving the Silver Finn, locking it up with a code lock and leaving. Atlas’s eyes never left the Korean Doctor.   
  
“Atlas..?” She asked softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”  
  
He blinked back to himself and smiled calmly. “Yeah, luv’ sorry about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck almost looking sheepish. “I just don’t trust that man is all. What if he goes talkin’ to Ryan…?”  
  
“I don’t think he will,” Em looked back to where Suchong had disappeared to. “He doesn’t care enough about other people to pay attention to what we’re doing.”   
  
“True enough..” Atlas mumbled, nodding along. “I’ll just keep me eye on him. Peace of mind and all that.”   
  
Atlas had a point. Peace of mind would be lovely, especially since Suchong had a nasty habit of selling anyone out the moment trouble arose for him. Still, the look Atlas had frown at Suchong was weird. He looked so angry, like he was two seconds away from snapping the man’s neck and the next minute he was fine. Maybe she was just seeing things, besides not many people liked Suchong and for good reason.   
  
By the looks of things they’d be seeing Suchong a lot more as time went by. He seemed to be coming and going quite a bit, she’d seen the sigh saying that Suchong had closed the restaurant but there was no explanation as to why.   
  
What was Suchong doing in the Silver Finn restaurant..? Only time would tell…

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Keep fighting:_   
  
_I’ve started working for Atlas. We’re fighting against Ryan and Atlas gives these people hope, he gives me hope… maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to change everything. We’ll be able to save Rapture, I can give my son a better home. A better chance. I thought everyone had just given up.. but Atlas.. Atlas makes me want to fight, to keep going. I’m not going to stop. I’m going to keep fighting. Clayton’s life and future depends on it._


	5. Bei Mir Bis Du Shön

_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Parasite Expectations:_   
  
_On the surface, the Parasite expects the doctor to heal them for free, the farmer to feed them out of charity. How little they differ from the pervert who prowls the streets, looking for a victim he can ravish for his grotesque amusement._

* * *

  
Rosa fidgeted anxiously in her seat at the Kashmir waiting for her sister to arrive. Usually they would’ve met at the medical pavilion but after recent events, Rosa didn’t feel comfortable having her sister waiting around for her. Doctor Steinman was getting worse. Getting more and more spliced and his operations were getting drastically worse along with him. He’d been such a brilliant surgeon, but now, the people he was turning out were awful. They looked worse coming out than they did going in.  
  
She shuddered slightly as she remembered. There’d also been quite a few bodies disappearing in the morgue recently. Just vanishing without a trace and Steinman had been ‘working late’ as he put it. Experimenting on cadavers. She had a feeling he was stealing his cadavers from the morgue without authorisation. The disposing of them afterwards to cover his tracks. She just couldn’t prove it.   
  
It was quiet in the Kashmir, very little people ventured out and about now days. Too scared of splicers running wild. Ryan was apparently building a place or converting one to house the spliced up individuals. That’s what she’d heard along the grape vine, wether it was true or not was a different matter entirely.   
  
Opal came in, accompanied by Daniel. The two went everywhere together now, too scared to be separate should the worst happen. They even offered to walk Rosa to and from work, but she’d declined. Told them that her shifts varied too much and she didn’t want to waste their time. They’d insisted, especially her sister, but she’d declined again. Rosa didn’t want to be a bother.   
  
“Opal,” Rosa smiled at her. “Daniel, it’s lovely to see you both, how was work?”   
  
Daniel politely pulled a chair out for Opal before taking a seat himself. He shrugged a little as he sat. “Nothing much. Guards tossing out spliced up lunatics.. someone almost got killed…”   
  
“The usual,” Opal supplied with a frown on her face. “You know… just… the usual.”   
  
Rosa bit her lip and looked at the table, trying to think of where to go from here. There wasn’t much to talk about now days, other than things like, so you were able to dodge a splicer attack too? Fantastic! So was I!   
  
“So…” she looked around nervously. “Either of you heard anything from Em?”   
  
Daniel and Opal looked around too, leaning across the table and whispering softly to her. “Not much. Though, Kelly’s said she’s sent a second letter to her. They’re still okay, spending a lot of time in the Department store…” Opal glanced around leaning closer and whispering even quieter than before. “Em says she’s working with.. Atlas.”  
  
“Atlas?” Rosa couldn’t help sounding a little surprised, eyes widening. “Really?”   
  
“That’s what we’ve heard,” Daniel shrugged. “They’re helping people round the Drop and the poor houses. They’ve been doing it for five months now. Well, six months since now it’s June now. I can’t believe this is all happening.”  
  
“Neither can I…” Opal looked her sister over, reaching her hands out and gently taking her hands. “Rosa, honey, is everything okay? How’s medical?”   
  
Rosa winced slightly. “I think there’s something wrong with Steinman.”  
  
“ _Really_?” Opal replied flatly. “You _think_?”   
  
“Don’t be cruel, Opal.”   
  
“I’m just astounded it’s taken you this- look, I’ve been worried about you. The man is a maniac! You need to leave!”  
  
“I can’t just leave my job,” she frowned. “Or my patients. I’m a nurse. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be.”   
  
“Well, I want my sister to be alive so I’m begging you please don’t go back there.”  
  
“I can’t leave my patients,” Rosa argued. “They’re sick. They need treatment. I’m not just going to abandon them.”  
  
“Rosa, Rosa,” Opal rubbed at her eyes, squeezing them shut. “Let me ask you, do you honestly think they’d lift a finger to help you if you needed it?”   
  
“It’s not about what they’d do, it’s about what I do,” Rosa argued, she sighed, looking down at the table with a frown. “I swore an oath to help people. To cure them and not take a life. They may not value my life, but I value theirs.”  
  
“You’ve got too big of a heart, little sister,” Opal said plainly. “You care too much for them. You’re too good for them.”   
  
“Maybe,” Rosa smiled a little, sitting a little straighter than before. “But it’s not about that. It’s not even about them in the end, it’s about me. It’s about if I could live with myself if I didn’t do anything, knowing that I could’ve done. I don’t care what those people think about me, because in that moment in time they need me. They need me to help them and maybe it changes some of their minds and maybe it does nothing at all, but at the end of the day I’ve done my job. I can go home and sleep better knowing that I proved them wrong, it’s up to them to admit that to themselves,” she shrugged a little. “Besides… their money doesn’t hurt too much either, right?” She winked at her sister flashing a cheeky grin.  
  
Opal grinned at her and Daniel smiled back in amusement. How good it felt to smile again. With all that was going on, it was proving to be very difficult to muster up the courage to smile. Hell, not just the courage, but the strength to smile also.   
  
Rapture had been getting a lot worse and some parts a lot harder. Some idiots were starting to bring up a few of their old bigotries because they were selfish and getting desperate. It had never been a problem before, but now it was getting harder. It was so stupid and she believed that once Andrew Ryan got rid of the splicers people would all return back to normal like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t pushed Rosa out of a queue because of her skin, or they hadn’t cussed Cammie out because she was married to a woman, or they hadn’t abused Kyburz simply because the man was Australian and had an accent. It would all go back to normal and they’d act like it never happened.   
  
Very few people were ever willing to admit to their mistakes. It is the way of things she supposed, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier. She wouldn’t say she got angry at them, if anything she pitied them. Her sister got angry, but Opal was always the more fiery one out of the two of them. Opal got angry and told them where exactly they could stick their bigotries, but Rosa only felt pity for them. Her sister had been so confused by this, but Rosa had explained that she felt pity for them because they were so small minded. She couldn’t be angry at someone who lacked the imagination to be open minded and accepting.   
  
So yes, they had two very different views on the situation and how to deal with it. They both agreed that it should stop and they both were smart enough to acknowledge that when it did, all the people who’d done it, would act like they’d never done it.   
  
The words still hurt and actions still made Rosa cry and Opal rage, but if Rosa could prove one of those idiots wrong and if her sister could put one of those idiots in their place, well that was how they dealt with it. Rosa would often find herself wondering why they dealt with the same issue so differently and she supposed it was their personalities. Neither way was wrong, it was just different.   
  
Majority of Rapture hadn’t gone backwards like that, it was just a few small minded individuals and they were very few and far between. It was why it had been more of surprise when it had happened. Rapture had never been like that, it had been a relatively peaceful place where race, colour and sexuality was concerned. You were meant to be an individual down here in Rapture, you were supposed to celebrate being yourself and it was lovely.   
  
She supposed though, when people got desperate or scared it always brought out the nasty side of people. Well, the idiotic side in her opinion, but it was sad that the only way they thought they could get anywhere in life was by being mean. How truly lonely and sad those individuals must be to think like that. How utterly lacking in confidence and imagination they must be, oh how very insecure. Yes, Rosa could only pity them.   
  
“Well, I can’t argue that,” Opal laughed. “But I’m still worried about you. Steinman’s going off the deep end and quick. You can’t stay.”  
  
“Opal, I know you’re worried about me, but please don’t tell me I can’t do something,” Rosa sighed and looked down at her hands. “At the end of the day it’s my decision. I care about my patients. I’m going to stay. I’m going to help them. You’re right, Steinman is going off the deep end, but that’s all the more reason why I have to stay and help my patients. He won’t. I’m not just going to abandon them.”   
  
“I stand by my previous statement,” Opal mumbled. “You really do have a two big of a heart.”   
  
Rosa shrugged. “Maybe it is a weakness of mine-.”   
  
“Oh no, little sister, it’s no weakness,” Opal took her hands again and shook her head. “It’s no weakness, don’t you ever think that caring about people is a weakness, it’s one of your greatest strengths. You’re able to look inside someone and find the goodness in all of them. I envy that ability in you. I truly do.”  
  
“We’re just different people, Opal,” Rosa smiled. “I envy your ability to tell someone where they can stick it.”   
  
“Well, that’s not hard,” Opal grinned. She glanced at Daniel and took his hand, squeezing it and he smiled back at her. “This one just has a hard time holding me back.”   
  
Daniel laughed and shook his head. “Hell no, I’m never holding you back,” he glanced at Rosa and his smile faltered a little. “I respect your decision, Rosa, but seriously, Steinman has a few screws loose. He’s an awful man, you need to get away from him.”  
  
“I can’t,” Rosa sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it any longer, I’ve made up my mind. Please, I ask you both to respect my decision.”   
  
Opal sighed nodding her head. “Alright… but promise me. The moment you don’t feel safe… you’ll leave.”   
  
Rosa nodded and smiled. “The moment I don’t feel safe I’ll leave. I promise.”

* * *

  
Frank was pretty pleased with himself. Things were going smoothly and just as he’d planned. People were working for him because he wanted to and he didn’t even have to pay them, wasn’t that just an added bonus?   
  
He overlooked the area of the Department Store they’d taken over. Smiling as people moved back and forth, he practically had an army right here with him. He only needed to say the right things to get people’s blood up. They were angry enough as it is, they all were and he just had to point them in the right direction. All he had to do was aim them and the poor would rise up and help him take over Rapture. Wouldn’t be long now.   
  
In all honesty he was surprised at how well everything was moving along, at how easily it had been to simply insert himself into the very heart of the poor community and become their leader. They were desperately crying out for a saviour and who was he to deny them such a thing? So a ‘saviour’ he’d become.   
  
Utter and complete idiots.   
  
Clayton had been the only smart one among them and as charming old Atlas, Frank had even managed to win him over. It grated on him that the way he’d had to win him over was be honest, but it was done now. He had the boy wrapped around his finger and he was so desperate to help Atlas and beat Andrew Ryan. Though, Frank would admit, he’d been impressed with Clayton’s stubborn and aggressive personality when he first met Atlas. The boy had been so very clever and smart. Smarter than his mother, but Em was unfortunately smitten with his new face.   
  
He turned away from them to stare out of the window, noting five bathyspheres heading towards the department store. Probably more workers, they’d been doing a lot round here recently. As Em had put it and he was inclined to agree, Ryan was probably getting rid of anything to do with Fontaine. So no doubt the sign with his name on it would be gone soon and it would say ‘Ryan’s Department Store’ instead. Insecure bastard that he was.   
  
“Atlas, Atlas!”   
  
Startled, he turned around to see O’Riley running to him, face as white as a sheet and looking absolutely terrified. He pointed desperately out towards the door of their area, radio clutched tightly in his hand. He had it clutched so tight in fact, his knuckles were white.   
  
“What is it?” He asked walking to him, Em coming to join. She’d ironically become his right hand, a position she’d never have filled when he’d been Fontaine. Frank could appreciated the irony and always had a good chuckle about it in private. “What is it, man? Speak up!”   
  
“We’ve gotta go!” He cried desperately. “Ryan’s men have just released splicers into the Department store! They’re killing everyone!”   
  
“What?!”   
  
Suddenly the bathyspheres went flying past the window and the whole building shook. Things fell off the shelves and a few people stumbled, staring up at the ceiling and a few at the ground in confusion. The building shook again, it was almost akin to an earthquake, not that Frank had ever felt one before, but he’d imagine this is what one felt like.   
  
When he looked up at the rest of Rapture, he watched as people all gathered to stare in shock, pointing and gasping. They felt another shockwave run up the whole building, this one more powerful than the last. People fell over and then the whole Department store was tilting on it’s side. You could hear the screams all over the building, lights began to flicker out and then flicker back on again. Frank quickly grabbed Em’s hand as she almost stumbled. They were all struggling to keep their balance.   
  
Another shockwave shook the building and sent the three of them into some of the nearby shelves. Frank clutched onto one tightly, Em and O’Riley were equally holding onto the ones that they’d been thrown into with the same strength. When Frank looked back at the window he was horrified to see Rapture was slowly getting further and further away. He could see the edge of the seabed that the city had been built on. The Department store had been different in its construction because it had been added later, so they’d used a different technique to build it.   
  
Most of Rapture had been built on the seabed and had foundations to help steady it, but the Department store had been built above the waves, on a lunette ring and then lowered down because they needed more room and didn’t have the Big Daddies yet to help build the rest of Rapture. It had also been placed precariously over an edge, much like Persephone had. In fact that building had been built much the same way or any building that sat over the edge had been brought down on the same ring so that it had support and wouldn’t fall into the sea. All Ryan had to do was cut the support beams for the building and then let gravity do the rest.   
  
At this horrid realisation, Fontaine felt a surge of rage boiling up inside him. The city was getting further and further away, his prize was getting further and further away. He stared as they passed the seabed edge, watching the lights of Rapture faded the further they sank. A few se creatures that only lived in the deepest part swam past the window, investigating this new thing that entered their home.   
  
The lights flickered above them, the windows began to crack at the edges as the pressure increased. Fontaine stared at those cracks, watching in tense morbid fascination as they began to arch across the the window. Water seeped through a few, they heard the building creaking and groaning all around them. A few large bangs and crashing sounds joined the crescendo of impending death and a watery grave and then the building finally stopped its descent. It hit the ground and managed to stay upright, steadying itself.   
  
Frank, Em and O’Riley fell forwards as the building righted itself, hitting the ground hard and groaning. Sea water seeped through some of the cracks but thankfully windows didn’t break or at least they didn’t break on this level.   
  
That was when Fontaine remembered that the under bell of the main part of the department store had been made completely out of glass. It was a restaurant, eating in a round glass room over the drop. It had been a place for thrill seekers in many ways, but it was also an expensive restaurant, you could watch the fish swim underneath your feet. He’d been once or twice and had enjoyed himself. There’d been something fun about sitting over the edge of a drop and watching many sea creatures swim underneath your feet.  
  
It wasn’t just him who’d remembered it seemed because Em seemed to be collecting herself and staring in horror at the window before them.  
  
“The glass!” She choked, burying her head in her hands. “Oh god the glass!”  
  
“It’s stayed in place,” O’Riley said, gesturing to the window, but she shook her head violently.  
  
“No! The glass restaurant at the bottom of the department store- in the main building,” she stared at him, tears began to run down her face. “It was still open- all those people… oh god… all those people!”   
  
Fontaine felt a chill go up his spine. Drowning was one thing, but being crushed to death… slowly too… he winced. Getting to his feet and helping Em up as O’Riley got himself up. The scarred man looked to be going through the shock that came with sinking and death. His face was pale and he didn’t look like he was focusing on anything.   
  
“All those people…” Em whimpered, her body shaking violently. “All those people… he didn’t even care… he just sank us and killed all those people…”   
  
Frank reached forward and squeezed her hands, trying to comfort her and gather his thoughts at the same time. What the hell did he do now? Everyone would turn to him because he was Atlas, he was their leader, the shining vision of hope.   
  
“Is everyone okay?” He called out to his many followers who were slowly getting to their feet, holding on to each other. “Those of you who can, check for injured! Help anyone who’s hurt! The rest of you who feel up to it, we’ll go searching the building to find anyone who may have been caught. We can’t let Ryan win!”   
  
Almost like a switch had been flipped, people began working moving around the helping a few who’d fallen funny. O’Riley was off the grab some guns from their storage and round up some people who would go out to see if there were any other survivors.   
  
“Clayton!” Em turned him towards her, shaking his arms slightly, eyes wide and panicked. “Clayton! He was on the lower levels collecting supplies! Atlas my son- my baby he’s all alone down there we have to- we have to-!”  
  
Shit. “Alright,” he steadied her or attempted to. “It’s alright. The lad’s smart, he’s gonna be okay. We’ll go down right now and look for ‘im. He’s got his crossbow with him-.”   
  
“He doesn’t know how to use it!”  
  
“Shite…” he cussed, teeth gritted and even Frank himself was starting to feel that panic set in. “Okay- okay, come on, we’ll grab O’Riley and whoever he’s managed to round up, we’ll go lookin’ fer him right now. Come on..”   
  
Goddamn it all, why did Clayton have to be here with them? Why couldn’t he be somewhere saver like with Limey up in the Hestia Chambers? The kid had wanted to help though. He’d insisted on coming with them every time and he’d never stopped them because unsurprisingly, Frank had never expected Ryan to _sink_ the damn department store.   
  
They were lucky everything had stayed in one place. That things hadn’t completely disintegrated or compacted together. That the glass hadn’t broken and only cracked. Things could’ve been so much worse. So much worse. They were lucky. They were very lucky, but how long was it going to last? O’Riley had said that Ryan had put splicers in the main section, no doubt he’d send more.   
  
He moved to run, but Em had stopped him, staring out of the window with a face so pale and a look that could only be described as fear.   
  
He looked out of the window and felt all the colour leave his face as he saw what was coming towards them.  
  
Bathyspheres. Twenty of them. What was the betting that all those spheres were filled with splicers? If you crammed people in those things, you could fit about ten people each inside. So presumably that’s what Ryan was doing, hell he might even be pushing in more people knowing that bastard. Five spheres had already come down, that was fifty splicers as it was, but now there were twenty more… two hundred more splicers… two hundred and fifty splicers…   
  
Fontaine was gonna _kill_ Ryan.

* * *

  
_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_Helping Atlas:_   
  
_We’ve been helping Mister Atlas for months now. He’s really nice and real sweet on my mum. We’ve been giving medicine and soup out to people on one of the levels in Fontaine’s department store. Some of the people from Hephestus are really badly hurt, mum tried not to let me see those, but there isn’t that many of us and we all gotta help._   
  
_The department store is still open, people have been shopping, they mostly ignore us, though I haven’t seen a lot of those kinds of people come up here._   
  
_Still, there’s been a lot of construction work recently, mum thinks Ryan’s just trying to get rid of all things to do with Fontaine and will probably turn this place - *crashing and groaning sounds, things falling over and smashing* what was that?! *sudden thud and then sounds of people screaming and shouting* everything’s moving! Oh god what… what’s happening?! We- we’re sinking! Mum, mum! Mama!_


	6. Mental Strain At Dawn

_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_Blackout:_   
  
_It’s so dark… can’t see, the lights have gone out on this section and.. I hate the dark. I hate it so much, feels endless and cold, like the ocean. How deep are we now? The building’s still held together… I thought with the pressure the glass would- well it didn’t so that’s what’s important, now I just gotta find everyone. We were scattered because of.. umm because we were helping people and.. I don’t know where anyone is… oh god… Mamma! Mamma where are you?! Mister O’Riley? Anyone?!_

* * *

  
Clayton rubbed at his nose, walking through the dark with one arm outstretched trying desperately to find a way out of the darkness. Tears were threatening to fall but he forced them back. He was fed up of crying all the time. He couldn’t be scared, he couldn’t afford to be scared.   
  
Squinting into the darkness he tried to make out shapes or movements of some kind, but he couldn’t see anything. He shouldered his back pack around, he’d taken to carrying it with him now, packed usually with just his books and teddy. All his spare clothes were back in the poorhouse, but these things were precious to him so he took them with him wherever he went.   
  
To keep himself calm, he reached up a hand to his watch and ran his fingers over it. The crossbow he’d shrugged off his back before slipping his backpack on again. He’d placed a bolt inside ready to fire it. Couldn’t be too careful, after all, he didn’t know what had happened or what was out there. Mister Fontaine had always told him to be prepared, he just wasn’t expecting this.   
  
He pressed his hand against cool metal for just a moment and then the door slid up and light shined in on him. He raised his hand to cover his eyes, slowly stepping out into the hallway. It was empty, save for a few mannequins that sat in the corner. A few were still standing but others had fallen over. One of them had completely toppled and there was another in it’s place- wait a minute!   
  
Startled, Clayton span to the scene before him, only to see the splicer come jumping at him screaming wildly, waving what looked like the arm of the mannequin over its head.   
  
Clayton yelled and lifted his arm with the crossbow, firing the bolt… and missed. The arm struck him hard across the head and flew backwards, his head bleeding and dizzy. He couldn’t work the strength to get back up again, just lay there as the colours faded in and out. Altering from being really bright to really dull and washed out. He heard the splicer somewhere getting closer, but he was too dazed to even think about defending himself. His head span and his ears rang.  
  
He saw splicer come into his eyesight, the arm raised above its head and ready to swing down, before it was shot in the shoulder. It stumbled forward, turned and screamed at whoever had shot it, before disappearing from Clayton’s view. He heard multiple gunshots go out, someone screamed his name and then his mother was in view, tears were running down her face. He wanted to stop her crying, but he couldn’t move without feeling sick and the world spinning.   
  
She gently sat him up, holding him close and trying to look at his cut. Atlas then appeared next to her, face a mixture controlled fury and deep concern.   
  
“He’s been struck in the head,” his mother said, gently touching the cut and he hissed in pain. She apologised to him quickly, looking the injury over. “Søntos… where does it hurt? How’s your vision.”  
  
“Mm, dizzy…”   
  
Atlas frowned and held his hand up in front of Clayton. “How many fingers?”  
  
“Two..?”   
  
“You askin’ me or tellin’ me?”   
  
“Telling you, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
Atlas blinked with wide eyed panic for just a moment. Then it was gone. “It’s Atlas, lad. Fontaine’s dead, remember?”   
  
Clayton blinked at him before slowly nodding and wishing he hand’t. “Ugh.. feel sick..”  
  
“Do you remember where you are?” Em asked gently.   
  
“The Department store…”   
  
“And your name?”  
  
“Clayton.. Clayton Lokken.”   
  
“And you know who we are?”  
  
“Mama and Mister Atlas,” he frowned at the wall. “The wall’s moving.. my head’s spinning and I feel sick..”   
  
Atlas reached forward and gently picked him up, nestling his head against his shoulder. “Looks like it’s a concussion… we’ll take him back and have one of the docs look ‘im over.”  
  
“I don’t need the Doctors…” Clayton mumbled, eyes fluttering a second. “Mn fine.”   
  
“You ain’t fine, lad.”   
  
Em gently took Clayton’s hand, squeezing it a second. “You’re gonna be okay, søntos, I promise. Just gotta keep your eyes open for me, okay? Don’t close them..”  
  
“Okay, Mama…”   
  
The rest of the trip back was a blur for him. He saw the colours and shapes rush past him, heard voices above him talking, but he couldn’t distinguish what they were saying. His eyes fluttered a few times, almost always closing, until Atlas would jostle him a little or his mum would gently coax him to keep his eyes open.   
  
Soon he was moved again and laying on a soft bed, some doctors were over him and asking questions. He felt someone hold his hand and when he looked over he found it was his mother. She smiled softly at him, but he could still see the sadness and worry in her smile. The doctors checked his head injury and wrapped a cloth around it, fixing it up and telling his mother that he had a slight concussion. He would be fine, but he just needed someone with him for the next twenty four hours to make sure nothing bad happened or he didn’t have a seizure. Usually the Doctors would do it themselves but they had so many injured to get through, they were tight for space.  
  
He held his mum’s hand as they walked through to where they were going to be resting for the night, Atlas even dropped by to give Clayton his crossbow. The boy had dropped it when he was attacked and Atlas had gone back to pick it up. He stayed for a bit to make sure he was okay, before he had to leave and organise everyone.   
  
His mum didn’t leave him, holding his hand and talking to him. Taking his teddy out of his bag, the name he’d given it being Odin, since it still only had one eye. He held it tightly and talked to his mum. Asking what had happened and she wasn’t too sure but it looked like Ryan had sank them. They were trapped.   
  
“I think I need to ask Mister Atlas to teach me to aim…” Clayton mumbled.   
  
“Yes,” Em agreed, which surprised him. His mum hadn’t been too keen on him learning how to aim and shoot. Now, however, she’d changed her mind. “I think you need to as well.”

* * *

  
“I tracked the problem that was blocking the tubes here, and you’ll never believe where I ended up…” Pablo laughed into the audio diary he was making. “The damn Farmer’s Market, clear on the other end of Rapture. I fixed it right up and installed some new gaskets… oof, what a mess,” he shook his head even though the recorder couldn’t see, wiping his still greasy hands on a cloth. “Anyway, the code is 0512, if you ever need to get back in there to do maintenance,” he reached a hand forward and switched off the recording, looking up to see Kyburz walking down the steps.  
  
The man looked stunned, like he was in shock and couldn’t get over whatever he’d seen or heard. He should try being in Pablo’s head, now days, he wasn’t always sure what was real and what wasn’t. The ghosts still lingered with him even now. Thankfully it wasn’t just him, others had started to see the same things. The same ghosts or sometimes they’d see different ones. He still didn’t know why, however. Not so sure he wanted to know why.   
  
Above them the low and heavy sounding footsteps of a Big Daddy trailed above. Their footfalls were so heavy they caused some of the dust to fall from the ceiling and for the ceiling itself to shake just a little. Jesus those things were big. Pablo didn’t want to mess with one. He saw the aftermath of a splicer who’d tried and it wasn’t pretty.   
  
Now it wasn’t just the big bastards with the drills no more. There were other kinds too. A new series called ‘Alpha Series’ had hit the streets with Little Sisters. Apparently, the girls could collect ADAM from the corpses and somehow re-use it. The Alpha Series were different, they weren’t quite as big as the other Big Daddies and they used Plasmids. They still had the drill and other weapons that they used to protect the girls, since as soon as the Little Sisters started harvesting ADAM the splicers went wild. They needed someone to protect them and the Big Daddies were the perfect candidates.   
  
Other Big Daddies like the Rosies carried rivet guns, then there was your traditional Bouncers which were the biggest of the lot with the drills. Some of the Bouncers were Elite Bouncers with different types of drill ends and better armour. A few of those types had a drill that also worked as a grapple to help it get around outside and climb to the top of buildings to take down signs or clear away debris.  
  
Sighing, Pablo chucked the cloth onto the table and pushed the audio diary to the side, turning to Kyburz and raising an eyebrow at him. “The hell’s the matter with you? You looked like someone died.”   
  
Kyburz stared at him, blinking rapidly, almost like he was blinking back into reality itself. “He sunk it.”  
  
“What are you goin’ on about?”   
  
“Ryan,” Kyburz swallowed uncomfortably. “He sunk the Department Store.”   
  
Pablo almost dropped his tools. Slowly he turned to the Aussie who’d taken a seat on the floor, his head in his hands and not looking at him. He looked, to Pablo, like a man defeated. Who’s just given up all hope or maybe the reality of the situation they were in had finally caught up to him. About time too. Things were only getting worse, not better.   
  
“What you mean he sunk the department store?” He asked, leaning against the table. “He’s got to have a reason hasn’t he?”  
  
“He’s turned it into a prison.”   
  
“Alright… not the worst thing-.”  
  
“He didn’t evacuate it.”   
  
“So… he just let a bunch of people to rot with splicers?” He rose an eyebrow. “Seriously?”  
  
“Atlas’s followers and that… Atlas himself were all in there. When he sank it. He’s stuffed all the splicers that they’d caught in there too and… sending more even as we speak…” he paused a moment, looking up at Pablo. “What if Em was with them?”   
  
Pablo sucked in a breath, turning away and giving a little shrug. “She chose to join Atlas.”   
  
“Not that Ryan gave her much of a choice!”   
  
“Keep your voice down,” Pablo hissed at him, he pointed at him with a spanner. “Listen, I liked Em and I’m awful sorry if she has ended up down there, but she made the choice to join Atlas. She made the choice to leave us and join Fontaine. You should start doin’ what I do, Kyburz,” he turned back to his work bench, sorting out the tools as more something to keep his hands busy than an actual need. “I keep my head down and I do my job.”  
  
Kyburz let out a breathy laugh. He looked up at him, letting his hands rest on his knees, almost glaring at Pablo. “And you called me a coward…”   
  
“Not doin’ something ain’t being a fuckin’ coward, Kyburz, it’s being smart!” Pablo snapped at him, his hands sparked with electricity. “Look around you? Ya’ think any sort of heroics count for a thing in this shit hole? It’s all about working for yourself and no one else. So be smart, ya know, for once!”  
  
He turned back to his work bench, taking the recording and stuffing it in one of the storage boxes, along with a few more items he’d found. He was going to stuff these under the crawlspace outside Kyburz’s office. Just a space where he had some items should he ever need them. Besides the Farmer’s Market space he’d locked up had so much supplies. If he could get back there, armed with the code, he’d be made.   
  
He felt like a squirrel, storing food and other things away for winter, except now, he was storing things away for when a war started up. Though, maybe now that this Atlas was out of the picture and they had a place they could finally stuff the splicers, things would get better? Go back to how they were? Not completely, obviously, how could they? You had little girls wandering around with giant needles, draining the blood from corpses and drinking it. All while they’re lumbering ever watchful guardian protected them from genetically altered freaks.   
  
Things would never be the same, but maybe they would get better?   
  
“If Ryan’s got a new prison… it means he can make people disappear again…”   
  
Pablo froze at Kyburz’s words. He honestly hadn’t considered that. It’ll be like Persephone all over again and that place was bad enough to give Pablo nightmares. He didn’t want to think about it and besides that Lamb twist was apparently in control of it, from what he’d heard recently. Good for her, he supposed, so long as she stayed as far away from the rest of Rapture that was all that mattered.   
  
“He won’t do that.”  
  
“Are you sure, he already murdered Fontaine!”  
  
“He’s got no reason to make people disappear,” Pablo argued, shrugging a little. Truth was, he knew Kyburz was right, but it was starting to be that you couldn’t say anything about Ryan without spontaneously disappearing from the public eye. Look at that Jonny Topside fellow. There one moment and gone the next. Pablo didn’t want to take that chance. “Seriously, Kyburz,” he glared at him warningly. “I think you should shut up.”   
  
Kyburz narrowed his eyes at him. “Why should I?”  
  
“Because…” Pablo grit out, walking up to him so he could whisper. “Do you want to end up in that Department Store?” He fixed him with a look. “Because I sure don’t. So please, shut up. For both our sakes.”

* * *

  
“I can’t believe he sank it,” Kyle spluttered, running a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth, the other four disciples watched him. “I mean.. how… how is Mister Cohen going to hide this? How’s he going to cover Ryan’s back this time?!”  
  
“He’ll figure something out,” Martin said, shrugging a little as he looked down at his icy finger tips. “Besides… I wonder what Cohen will think of it all…”   
  
“I wonder what the rest of Rapture will think of it,” Silas grumbled, lighting a cigaret with a snap of his fingers and blowing smoke to the ceiling of the club.  
  
“What the rest of Rapture think’s of the situation is irrelevant… Ryan’s got what he wanted. If anyone says anything bad about it, I think we all know where they’re going to end up.”   
  
The four men turned to the fifth and newest disciple of the group. A young woman, in her early twenties, with dark hair and startling big blue eyes. The eyes were sharp, a deep blue rather than baby blue and there was an elegance to her that seemed remarkably old fashioned. She had a good voice and she was absolutely stunning to look at. She also didn’t get pushed around easily, as Silas discovered when he tried to belittle her and she just outmatched him on intellect and vocabulary. Easily one of the smartest people the four would be artists had met.   
  
She sat at the edge, book in hand and smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t look up from them as she spoke, content to read her book and simply listen.   
  
There was something about her. They couldn’t put their fingers on it but they knew she was special. Something about her just screamed that she was more than what she claimed to be. So much more.   
  
Her name was Elizabeth Comstock, but majority of Rapture knew her simply as ‘Cohen’s Songbird.’   
  
“You really think Ryan will do that, Elizabeth?” Kyle asked, rubbing at his arms in an effort to comfort himself. He’d always been a skittish sort. “I mean… people aren’t going to be happy.”   
  
Elizabeth looked up at him for a moment before her eyes returned to her book. “No, of course they aren’t. Ryan’s done the one thing he claimed he’d never do. People aren’t going to be happy, but there is very little they can do about it without vanishing completely.”   
  
The door to the club opened and they heard someone coming down the steps. They already knew who it was, it had to be Sander Cohen, it couldn’t be anyone else. He was the only one, other than themselves, that was allowed inside the club before and after hours.   
  
When he came down to them, it seemed like he was in a bit of a mess, which wasn’t unusual in recent times. He’d been getting worse and worse the more he’d spliced up with different plasmids. One of the few in Rapture who had teleport, though he did use it sparingly since Ryan hated it so much. Simply so he didn’t get caught.   
  
Oddly, Cohen seemed a little distressed, his hands pattering against his pockets nervously. He didn’t even say hello to them, which he usually did in some obscene and over the top gesture. Some grand entrance he felt he deserved, but now he simply looked panicked and out of his depth. Something had happened, but it was doubtful he’d tell them. He wasn’t the sort like that. Or sometimes he would tell them, just not too clear. Always framing it in some bazar and over the top display and use of words.   
  
“What is he trying to do…” he mumbled to himself, unclenching and clenching his hands, tiny flames flickering from his finger tips every time he did it. “Is he trying to drag me down with him… after everything I’ve done for him… that ungrateful son of a bitch… after everything I’ve done… always, always about him… always!”   
  
The disciples looked at each other nervously and all held a look of confusion too. They didn’t know what to do when Cohen was like this. Sometimes the mad man had a habit of turning his anger on you, even if it wasn’t really you he was angry at. It hadn’t been so bad in the past, but anyone could see that Cohen was almost in la la splicer land and they didn’t want to risk those little flames to become a full on forest fire.   
  
“That bastard!” Cohen shrieked, making the disciples jump and take a few steps back. Elizabeth had even closed her book and walked over to join the men. “How could he do this to me?! He expects me to use my starlight to illuminate him! He expects me to clean up everything without getting anything in return! How the fuck am I supposed to clean up an entire Department Store being sunk?!”   
  
Ah. So it was about that. He’d heard, no doubt Ryan had asked him to write some form of bogus propaganda with a catchy tune or new radio commercial.   
  
John and Mary, the two radio hosts for Rapture Radio, had been banging out radio informercials like they were being paid considerably more than they were to do it. It wasn’t just informercials either, sometimes it was propaganda about other events in Rapture. To calm the citizens or at least tried to. If anything, it seemed to make things worse. Make people just that little bit more depressed and that little bit more angry with Ryan. The one about capital punishment in the city had been a doozy. The disciples had a laugh about it, that was before Elizabeth came along. She didn’t seem to find it half as funny as they did. She just found it sad.   
  
Bravely, Martin stepped forward. He was, without a doubt, the leader of the group under Cohen. He was the one they all turned to because his size was impressive and the strength he had behind his size was equally as impressive. All that time working with huge ice blocks had done well for him.   
  
“Mister Cohen?” He asked, still keeping his distance from the mad man. “Is everything okay?”   
  
“Does everything look okay to you, you idiotic-!” Cohen took a moment to calm himself down. Snapping his mouth shut and letting out a breath. He opened his eyes to them and offered a chilling smile. “My disciples… I am sorry for that… unruly display. It’s just a lot to take in you see…” he rubbed at his eyes tiredly and waved his hand around. “But we mustn’t criticise Andrew… I’m sure he has a reason for the things he does…” he said as he walked away from them, mumbling under his breath. “God knows what that reason is but by god he’ll certainly have one and be all too quick to point it out..” He stood with his hands by his side, staring at the wall, not really looking at it. Almost looked like he was trying to look through it. “And then there’s me cleaning it all up afterwards… so the doubters don’t tear him to pieces… never mind what it does to my own reputation…”  
  
“Uh- Mister Cohen?” Martin frowned a little at the man’s back glancing to the others for back up but they shrugged back at him. They got nothing. “W-what’s going on, sir?”  
  
“Ryan. Ryan is what is going on, as you may know,” he turned back to them all. “He has sunk the department store to save us all from those horrid, horrid splicers… but he did not get rid of those already in the place and well, people seem to get rather put out when their favourite shopping mall and loved ones are abruptly sunk into the icy depths of the Atlantic…” he rubbed at his mouth thinking. “I mean, I don’t see what all the fuss is about, but even I could tell it was an awful idea… still, as always, I must be the shining light!” He gestured to himself. “The one that puts it all to right. That calms the general masses with a little song. An easy enough feat for someone like me… but I could be spending my time doing other things…” Cohen pouted like a spoilt child. “Not cleaning up the messes Andrew makes for himself.”   
  
“I guess… some folk just give up a little easy…?”  
  
“Ugh, the _doubters_ , Martin, we call them the _doubters_!” Cohen bristled, waving his arms around violently. “Yes, there’s blood in the streets, yes, sometimes people disappear and those awful little girls…” he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Well, I suppose the _doubters_ think you can paint a picture without soiling your smock.”

* * *

  
_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Observation #17:_   
  
_Observation #17 regarding unknown phenomena. Phenomena presents as odd shimmer, through which is observed… what? Men in strange hats. Women in large dresses. Buildings that float. Is phenomena window to other space? Other time? What was it Einstein said? “The only reason for time is so not everything happen at once.”_


	7. I'm Making Believe

_Doctor Cicil Conners,_   
  
_The perfect human being:_   
  
_Ah… so that’s six lots of brain boost, one shot of mothers little helper to keep away the drowsiness… and we are ready to continue with the research. I’ve started to inject the brain boost directly into my skull to quicken the reaction time. I can’t wait, my research, every precious moment counts. I can not afford any distractions, tiredness will not do. I may consider… taking my eye lids off and using water drops for my eyes. Any moment my eyes close is a risk I waste time. This will not do._   
  
_I shall not be held back by my bodies own weaknesses. Where my body fails me, plasmids will improve as well as my own body altering modifications. .. Perhaps I could visit Doctor Steinman, ask him to fix me up right._

* * *

  
One month. One whole month trapped in this damn place.   
  
Frank recalled there’d been a time when the department store was one of his proudest moments… now he hated the very sight of it. Every broken and damaged tile, every cracked and splintered piece of glass. He detested it with a passion, but he had to keep up the act. Keep up the con. The lie.   
  
_Atlas_ , wouldn’t panic. _Atlas_ wouldn’t get angry or yell at everyone he’d stay calm and level headed, think everything through and try to keep the rest of them together. That’s what Atlas would, but Frank was _not_ Atlas and it was getting harder and harder to keep this act up. Thankfully, the occasional talks with Limey were able to keep him sane, so did the talks with Em and O’Riley which had surprised him.   
  
They were both level headed people. They didn’t gush or complain, they kept their heads down and did what they were told or made their own moves. He didn’t complain, they were good at planning and working out solutions to problems. Some of them were only problems they could solve anyway, since it involved power or sometimes heavy lifting. Or hey, battle strategy.   
  
Em was, well, Em and O’Riley had fought in the war so knew a thing or two about building up a defensive.   
  
They needed to. With the amount of splicers running around and more on the way. As the month had slowly passed by, the splicers began to mark territories and kill off anyone who’d dare to step onto their ground. Sometimes it was easier to tell where a splicer territory began because it was usually marked by bodies. Other times it wasn’t so easy since they liked to be sneaky bastards and liked to hide so they could pounce on you. Others just wandered from place to place like hunters or scavengers. Killing anyone they happened to cross paths with and then there were the special kind of crazy. The ones that seemed to still have enough of a brain in their head to command the others and organise them into some sort of group.   
  
The special crazies were harder to deal with because they didn’t just take over a room, they took over an entire floor and had people marching around keeping an eye out. They had actual splicers patrolling their ground and ready to kill anyone that so much as crossed them.   
  
So far, they were aware of at least five different super splicers that did not bare thinking about or crossing. They’d drawn a rather crude map of the mall and marked who was where on the map itself.   
  
On the main section of the department store there were two super splicers. One at the very bottom who had taken over the area that had once been the entrance to the restaurant at the bottom. He was high on the electrobolt plasmid and had mutated so much the electricity ran through him at all times. He used the water from the wrecked restaurant and leaking pipes to his advantage, almost like environmental weapons.   
  
Then in the middle of the department store was whatever that was left of the circus. It seemed Alfred Galileo had spliced up just as badly as his performers and was now running merry hell around their area. Sometimes they’d even go out for hunts and bring people back to ‘enjoy the show’ as they put it. The lucky ones got killed nearly straight away. The unlucky ones got forced to become ‘part of the act’ and after hearing the story about the ice thrower from Em, Frank had decided that it wasn’t worth their time exploring that area at all. Besides, clowns were disturbing on a good day, he had no desire to see a splicer clown and by the looks of things, everyone else agreed with him.   
  
In the tower they were part of, housewares, there were three different super splicers. Super splicers. The term was stupid but there was no other way you could describe them.   
  
Still, on one of the lower sections a splicer that had once been a toy maker had well, taken over the toy department. He was having a grand old time dow there too, apparently. Turning people into toys. Taking them apart and then putting them back together again. Sometimes he’d send up one of his grand creations to them in the elevator just to freak them out. Sometimes they looked like puppets, other times they were done as tin soldiers, the worse had been the dolls because the psycho had taken out the women’s actual eyes and replaced them with glass ones.   
  
Then you had a lady who deemed herself an artist, she always wore a mask and Frank thought he recognised her, but wasn’t entirely sure. Still, she controlled the level with the cinema, running around killing anyone who entered her place and filmed the entire thing. Like she was some actress on a stage and sometimes would paint the corpses afterwards. Sometimes she’d turn the corpse itself into art.   
  
The final place… well… they weren’t really sure what was going on there. They just knew someone was there. Someone was skulking around kidnapping people. They’d sent five guys down there to investigate, only one came back and he was babbling about seeing monsters or people that had longe since been dead. Frank wanted to chalk it up to delusions but why were they hallucinating in the first place? It didn’t make any sense. So yeah, they didn’t know what was there, but something was and it was a dangerous splicer.   
  
Worryingly, it was also the closest.   
  
“We’re gonna have to deal with whatever that is, first,” O’Riley mumbled, as he, Frank and Em looked over the map of the department store they’d drawn out. O’Riley tapped his finger on the part marked simply ‘unknown’, looking up at the two of them grimly. “Whatever is living on that level is too damn close to us. We need to get rid of it or at least find out what it actually is.”   
  
“Could it be a new Plasmid?” Em asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know they had all those new drinkable ones. I saw the adverts for them.”   
  
“It might well be, luv,” Frank agreed in his Atlas voice, though secretly he was annoyed. Drinkable Plasmids and new Plasmids too, where was that little piece of marketing gold when he needed it, huh Suchong? “Leave it to bloody Andrew Ryan to bring out a whole new type of hell for us ta deal with. I mean, we got us a new kind that can turn ya invisible… and let’s ya’ see through walls.”  
  
“Peeping Tom,” Em snarled the name of that Plasmid out in disgust, immediately moving her arms up and crossing them in front of her chest. “Fuckin’ disgusting Plasmid! I would’ve expected Fontaine, but never Ryan.”   
  
Frank was incline to agree, but Limey had practically zeroed in on him when he’d pitched it and Frank had made the smart decision not to go ahead with it. That woman could be damn right scary when she wanted to be, but she was also smart. If Limey wanted him dead because he released a Plasmid that allowed men to perv on women as it was advertised to do. Well, he was pretty certain he’d of gone to bed one night and then not woken up the next.   
  
Drinkable Plasmids… Frank still couldn’t get over it. Suchong had create the damn things seemingly out of no where and they’d been on the shelves a month before the department store was sunk. There was a problem though and that was the lovely fact that drinkable Plasmids required ten times the amount of ADAM than the injectables did. Suchong had forced Fontaine’s hand, but Frank was counting on the Koreans natural cowardice and the fact that no one would believe him if Suchong had said anything.   
  
Fontaine had cornered Suchong in the Silver Finn, just as the man had been about the leave and pinned him face down to the desk, so he couldn’t see his face and know who Fontaine was now. He’d just know he was still alive and watching his every move. He’d leaned down next to Suchong’s ear and snarled in his own voice, not the one he’d adopted for Atlas, _‘long time no see, Suchong, I was actually kinda missin’ ya’_. It had certainly done the trick, because Suchong had panicked and begged Fontaine not to kill him.   
  
Frank had been feeling generous that day, so he didn’t. Instead he had Suchong as a type of mole in Ryan Industries for him. He’d told Frank everything about the new drinkable plasmids, except for where the new ideas had come from, but he’d even let slip the fact that they costed more ADAM. More of Fontaine’s product. Needless to say, Frank hadn’t been happy. He’d told Suchong to go back to the injectables and as if to strengthen his point, he even sent him an audio diary through the pneumo. Well, sure enough, the injectables were back on the shelves in the month it had taken to convince Ryan that they needed to go back to that system and then the department store had been sunk.  
  
Fontaine was no idiot though, he had Limey watching Suchong and he made sure the damn psychopath knew he was being watched by one of his guys. Suchong was behaving himself for now, but Frank wasn’t too keen to leave any loose ends alone for long. As soon as he could figure out a way to get him and his army out of this would be prison, he’d be marching down to Suchong’s and tying that loose and rather annoying end up. Bringing it to a close.   
  
Even though all of this had been done, however, the drinkable plasmids were still on the shelves of the department store… or at least they had been. Frank had a feeling that most of the splicers had cleared those out trying to get their fix or people had grabbed them in an effort to fight the splicers off.   
  
Still, the drinkable plasmids were not much of a problem for them at the moment. It was this unknown splicer that was causing them more problems, simply because he was an unknown factor.  
  
“Maybe that’s why no one’s seen him,” O’Riley said, shrugging a little.   
  
“Or her,” Em looked up at them and shrugged like O’Riley. “Could be a jaded woman. Turning the tides? I’d seen a lot of women in the Drop buy Plasmids to protect themselves. Lighter than a gun after all.”  
  
“You didn’t buy any,” O’Riley pointed out and Em glared a little.   
  
“Because I don’t trust Fontaine- _didn’t_ trust Fontaine,” she winced, turning to the very man who she thought was dead and now her gaze was a lot softer. Fond and affectionate, not emotions Frank would ever have seen Em direct at him had it not been for this act of his. “If we’re going down there… we need to be prepared. Last time we sent five guys down there and only one came back… do we send ten of us?”   
  
“We can’t have too many of us goin’ or else who’s gonna protect them lot here,” he nodded to the door leading to the outside. “I’d say we keep it at five. The bastard or whoever… or whatever is down there won’t notice us straight away.”  
  
“What about groups?” Em suggested. “We could split off into two groups of three?”  
  
“That might work…” Frank nodded, glancing to O’Riley for advice. “What you say to that, O’Riley? Sound like a good idea to you?”   
  
The scarred man seemed to think about it a moment. He ran his fingers through his hair that had slowly become greasy. Hell, a lot of them were getting like that. They’d only been able to scavenge a few cleaning supplies and then cleaning became less important as the days had ticked by. It became more about food and water, ammunition and less about how you looked. Though Jesus Christ it had begun to stink around here. Like the reptile house at the zoo one of the other men had said. Most of the women still washed themselves, standing in the bathrooms and using the sinks with a bit of the hand soap.   
  
There’d been a few suggestions to scavenge the rest of the department store using the tram lines. Get some clothes from the stores there so they could at least change their clothes. One thing at a time, however. Though it wasn’t a bad idea. They just needed to deal with this unknown splicer and then get to the clothes later.   
  
“I think that might be a good idea…” he nodded. “If we come out the place from two angles,” he gestured to the map. “We can meet in the middle. One of us will most likely spot the other and he won’t be expecting us to attack him from both sides. We’ll catch him off guard in at least one direction, no way he can handle us all…”  
  
“The others went down as a five man team,” Frank mumbled. “He seemed to handle them jus’ fine.”   
  
“Maybe because they went down in a large group in one place?”  
  
“That seems ‘bout right.. couldda used that incinerate Plasmid on ‘em or.. had electrobolt or somethin’,” he looked at the others to confirm if they thought the same thing and they seemed to. So at least they’d worked that much out. Now it was just finding out just what the hell was down there. “Alright, we’ll go as a team of three an’ grab three other guys to come down with us. You got anyone in mind?”  
  
“Peterson would be good…” O’Riley mumbled. “Abigail and Anthony,” he grabbed his Tommy gun and shifted it on to his shoulder. “I’ll go and grab them now.”  
  
“Alright, I’ll leave Molly in charge up here, got a good head on her shoulders that one,” Frank mumbled as he checked his pistol and counted the bullets inside. It was full, he’d grab twelve more to take with him just in case. He was a good enough shot with his pistol, finishing off the ones the others got with their machines guns.   
  
“Atlas?”   
  
He looked up at Em, the woman was stuffing her own hand cannon away in her holster, picking up the rifle she’d chosen out of the gun collection they had. It required a good aim to be affective and by god did Em have that. Reggie had been right to be nervous of her. Frank hadn’t believed it at first, they he saw her practicing with tin cans and his opinion was swiftly changed. Still, there was a difference to shooting a can and shooting a person, splicer or not. She hadn’t shot anyone yet, this might be her first time.  
  
“Yes luv’ what is it?”   
  
Em stared down at the strap of her rifle a moment, not looking at him. She looked nervous. “Listen.. um, I just.. these past few months helping you.. I…” a frown fell across her face a moment and she shook her head, smiling at him instead. “You know, it doesn’t matter. Forget it,” she laughed, high pitched and strained. “Just.. forget I said anything… let’s just get this over with…”   
  
Frank watched her leave up the stairs and rose an eyebrow. That had certainly been an interesting exchange. She’d seemed nervous to tell him something, that was odd. Ever since she’d joined him as Atlas, she’d been far more open. Probably because she didn’t know it was her ex employer she was working for. Well, technically she never stopped working for him, she just didn’t know that.   
  
He’d walked out to meet them all, a few of them held satchel bags or even fishing baskets of all things by their hips. These were filled with extra ammunition and medical supplies in case anyone got hurt. O’Riley held a short wave radio at his belt just like Frank did.   
  
With the group ready they set off, taking the elevator down and splitting up. Em, himself and Peterson as one group and then Abigail, Anthony and O’Riley as the second group.   
  
As Frank pushed the door open slowly, he heard Em take her rifle off her shoulder and ready it to fire. She seemed a little tense, Peterson was no better. He was only a young man, in his early twenties, he’d never had anything really bad happen to him yet. There was still that underlying teenage quality to him of being immortal, but also terrified at the possibility of not being at all.   
  
The area they were in seemed to be another restaurant. One of the less popular ones, but if they could get control of this place there might be some food they could take.   
  
Slowly, they walked to the back end where the kitchen sat, searching around inside, but it didn’t look like anyone was there. Frank was inclined to leave, but Em stopped him, gesturing to the kitchen.   
  
“Doesn’t that look a little too clean to you? Almost like it’s been sterilised…”  
  
“Now that ya’ mention it luv…” he looked back at the kitchen and noted that yes it was almost perfect. “Somethin’ not right here… Peterson, check the fridge would ya?”  
  
Peterson nodded and quickly darted to the fridge, pulling it open. He yelled and backed away quickly, while Frank felt his eyes widen and heard Em gasp behind her.   
  
Inside the fridge were organs. Human organs and one human head. It was a splicer head so no one they knew, but just what the hell was going on in this place? The organs seemed to have been kept to some sort of order, not just randomly thrown in there and scattered around. They had a place and a label on each of the jars they sat in.   
  
“The hell’s going on here?” Peterson managed to grit out, taking many steps backwards and clutching at the machine gun. “What the hell- what the fuck?! Oh god, oh god, oh god-!”   
  
“Whoa, whoa, steady,” Frank placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Steady now. Deep breaths.”  
  
“Atlas, what’s happening here?”   
  
“I don’t know…” he glanced at the fridge. “But christ knows we’ve gotta put a stop to it. Whatever it is. Come on now, let’s keep movin’ lord hates a quitter.”   
  
Several seconds later, Frank was learning to regret that statement. Should’ve just turned around and blocked access, shouldn’t of bothered with this, but they had kept on moving through. The first sign that something was wrong was when no one answered them on the radio, the second had been when Peterson had started screaming and collapsed to the floor for no reason. Then Em did the same and as Frank tried his best to snap her out of it and get them out of there, he felt a sharp prick at his neck.   
  
Reaching up, he yanked at whatever it was only to come away with a dart, then the world tilted on its axis and he went with it. He hit the floor hard, the world had begun to spin and tilt. Then he wasn’t in the department store anymore and he was no longer lying down but standing in the Futuristics building.   
  
Almost dreamlike and like his own body didn’t belong to him, Frank walked down the corridor towards the sound of screaming, the hallway tilting to the left as he continued, making him feel sick. When he’d reached the door and pulled it open, the sight that greeted him was one he’d tried so desperately to scrub from his mind completely. The great hulking mass of human flesh that was stuck to the wall and ceiling, the organs hanging and drooping out of the body, looking almost like a grotesque mobile over a baby’s bed. The thing’s beak like mouth clicked and snapped at him in some form of garbled English, blaming him. Yelling and screaming at him, even as it slowly began to burn up just like it would’ve done had it been incinerated.  
  
He’d recognised it the moment he saw it. It was the creature that Suchong and Tenenbaum had made when they’d used ADAM to cross species. Animal with human. It hadn’t ended well and Frank had requested the thing be destroyed by incineration and it was. He’d tried not to think about it since then, but here he was… staring at it once more, until it was nothing but ash.   
  
Frank stumbled away from it, crashing to the floor behind him and he heard a giggle. Childish girly laughter and looking up, came face to face with two little sisters. Their eyes glowed a sickly yellow like they always did, skin grey and almost resembling that of a corpse. They laughed at him, smiles on their faces as they reached out with their little fingers, trying to grab and pull him back down.   
  
Panicked, Fontaine stumbled to his feet, hands held out to keep them away from him. He backed away, eyes wide as they walked towards him, the world tilting again. The door behind had shut once more and Frank found his back pressed against it.  
  
 _“Don’t you want to play with us, Frankie?”_  
  
 _“You did save us after all…”_  
  
 _“Turned us into monsters…”_  
  
 _“We should be thanking you!”_  
  
 _“You did this!”_  
  
 _“It’s all your fault!”_   
  
As they said each word and drew steadily closer, the girls began to change to something more horrific. Almost like a little sister and a splicer moulded into one. He span around, fumbling with the door handle a second, hearing their laughter and voices getting closer. He thought he felt the ghostly touch of little children’s fingers at his back just as he was able to open the door and run through, slamming it behind him.   
  
He closed his eyes and pressed his back against the door, even then he could hear them talking to him. He could hear them chattering and giggling, pounding at the door aggressively and trying to get to him. Then it all went silent and that was somehow far worse than the clawing and giggling at the door.   
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes and got even more confused than before. It was the stage, the theatre he’d grown up backstage, where he’d worked, where he’d met the actress who’d taught him everything he knew. Why was he here? This made no sense, he.. he was in Rapture, wasn’t he? Frank didn’t know anymore, he just knew that this wasn’t going to be good.   
  
He yelled as a body dropped onto the stage seemingly out of no where. Stumbling backwards for a moment, he stared at it, but that dress… that hair.. no.. it couldn’t be.. that had all happened…   
  
Frank watched in detached horror as the thing on the floor, slowly sat up. Inhuman in its movement, almost like it was no effort at all and then the face of the woman who’d been so kind to him faced him.   
  
“Ms Chlo…” he found himself whispering, eyes wide and breathing coming out in short, sharp, bursts. He shook his head in denial of what he was seeing. “No… can’t be.. you.. you’re dead… you…this can't be real!”  
  
The ghostly image of her smiled at him, mouth filled with bleeding gums, the blood began to trickle out of her mouth, staining her pale skin. Her head swayed about on her neck, every time it moved, Frank could hear the broken bones grate against each other and crack. Splintering and breaking more. The deep purple bruise around her neck almost looking like a macabre necklace seemed to get worse the more she moved her head.   
  
“Because of you..” She spat, the blood flying out of her mouth. Despite the accusing nature, her voice still sounded so sweet and serene. Like a mother’s voice and didn’t that make it so much worse. “If you’d only been quicker… if you’d only been there for me, Frankie, like I was there for you, I wouldn’t be dead! It’s all your fault!”   
  
“No!” He shook his head desperately. “It’s not my fault- I- I tried! I _tried!_ ”   
  
“You should’ve tried harder…” she held her arms out to him and smiled. “Come along Frankie… come to mommy….”   
  
Frank shook his head violently, turning quickly to try and grab at the door handle, the little sisters were better than this… only the door wasn’t there anymore.. He let out a cry of despair, the sound of bones cracking and moving forced him to turn back towards the body of the former actress and he wished he hadn’t. Pressing his back against the wall, he watched as she slowly got her broken legs and arms to function and allow her to stand. Head swinging loosely and bones cracking with every swing and step.   
  
He wanted to scream, but it felt like all the air had been forced out of his lungs. He felt like he couldn’t breath. Like his throat was closing up and choking him from the inside out.   
  
As the nightmare continued to make its way towards him, he slid down the wall, trying to make himself smaller. Staring up at the creature that dropped to its knees once it reached him. He heard the sickening crack of kneecaps when it hit the floor, slowly reaching toward him with open arms.   
  
His mind screamed at him to run, but it was almost like he didn’t have any functional control over his actions. Couldn’t fight back, couldn’t run, couldn’t scream. Even as this thing slowly wrapped its arms around him in a hug, holding him like a mother would hold a small child.   
  
“Shh…” she cooed into his ear and he could feel the blood from her mouth hit the side of his face and trickle down. “It’s alright…” she went on, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s alright… mommy’s here…”   
  
Frank wasn’t sure what had happened after that, his eyes had felt heavy and his head hurt. It didn’t take long for him to fall unconscious as his mind just shut down on him out of protection. Making all the awful images vanish and just be left in peaceful darkness where nothing could reach him.   
  
It didn’t stay like that. He opened his eyes to a blinding light above him, for a brief stupid moment, he almost thought he was in a hospital. Then he remembered everything that had happened, heard noise around him and what sounded like a voice… talking to him. Not one of the voices of the past, not quite at least.   
  
“- Why you can’t trust anyone these days. People just scream and shout at the first sign of a little blood and really it’s just pathetic. What are they expecting to come out, pumpkin juice? Hm. I wonder if I could make someone see that…? Oh! You’re awake!”   
  
A face suddenly appeared in his view, staring down at him and it grinned. It was a splicer. Its face was highly mutated and changed, a pair of glasses on its face with multiple lenses of different strengths, the back of its head seemed to be extending and bubbling. Almost like whatever was in its head was trying to expand outwards. This thing still had all its teeth just about and it looked like it was wearing a lab coat of some kind.   
  
“I must say, you surprise me.. who would’ve thought the hero of the people would be so plagued by guilt? Though I suppose that is the fate of any great martyr right?” The thing gestured around itself. “I do apologise for the mess and lack of proper equipment, this department store is sadly lacking, but nothing that a few bits of DIY couldn’t solve. It’s amazing what belts and nails can do…”   
  
Frank glanced down at his wrists and ankles, his head felt too heavy to move, but he was able to see leather belts firmly tightened around his arms and legs, keeping him in place. They were hammered down to table tops. Makeshift restraints with what this thing had found around the place.   
  
“Whilst those have been easier to replicate… the surgical equipment is not so easily copied. I’ve had to restrict my research since my tools are so limited. Butcher knives and such simply just won’t cut it. You did catch me at a bad time, but that’s alright, I can adapt.”   
  
“Who.. who the fuck are you…?” He slurred, forcing his eyes to stay open.   
  
The splicer face appeared in his eye sight again. “Doctor Cicil Conners, at your service. You’re in good hands, alright? No need to be panicked…”   
  
Cicil. Cicil Conners, the loopy psychotic that was in charge of the Fontaine clinic, who did experiments on people and that was _before_ he started to splice. Now he seemed to be a full blown nutter.   
  
“Cicil…” he slurred, the man in question disappeared out of sight again, but he heard metal clattering around him. “Maybe… we can work a deal…?”  
  
“I don’t make deals with experiments… though I must say, even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t do them with you,” he said somewhere to the left of him. “You see… you seem to have come out of the hallucination very quickly, just like some of my other experiments and this man right here. As I have seen with these other cases and this one, the only time people come out of a hallucinogenic episode so quickly is due to them having taken a narcotic substance before. Heroin and cocaine. I believe there is already a chemical imbalance in the brain which triggers such a reaction so.. I have to investigate further.. it’s just so hard to find a good brain now days. Because of all that splicing the brains are so damaged and tumour filled that I can’t make head nor tail of it.”   
  
Frank managed to get enough strength to turn his head to the side where Cicil was and he sorely wished he hadn’t. If he’d been able to him he would’ve been sick, instead he could only stare in horror at the sight before him.   
  
Anthony was strapped onto a table next to him, staring at the ceiling and not appearing to be all there, but given what was happening to him, that was probably a good thing. The top part of Anthony’s head was missing, the brain on display and Cicil was busy poking around at it.   
  
“You two,” the doctor went on, as he picked up one of his make shift tools and gently cut at a part of the brain. “Well, you two are useful due to your brains not being damaged by splicing. I can see why my formula doesn’t work on you for as long as the others,” Cicil turned to him and smiled at him. “Did you know the brain feels no pain? Quite fascinating really… and, and look at this… watch his fingers..” He reached forward with a sharp tool, sending a gentle current of electricity through his fingers from using electrobolt and gently prodded at the brain. Anthony’s finger tips flinched and tapped. Cicil giggled excitedly. “Isn’t that funny? You know if your brains weren’t so important I’d see if I could make you do a jig or something, but sadly I need them intact. Though I suppose that isn’t the same for the others is it? I could alter their perception and re-program them. Complicated stuff, I’m sure a common place man like yourself wouldn’t know much about it.”   
  
Cicil paused a second, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before he looked back at him and he smiled.   
  
“Though I suppose…” he started. “I could always teach you now, if you’d like. Yes, why not?” He stood up patting at Anthony’s shoulder good naturedly. “Give you a little lesson on the brain and explain my experiments. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to talk to anyone of any significant intelligence… also this way you’ll know what to expect of your coming procedure. No surprises,” he grinned at him and crouched over the brain once more, pointing at the front of it. “This is your prefrontal lobe…”   
  
Though it was probably a bad idea, Frank’s brain shut down on him again. His eyes fluttered as Cicil continued to babble before eventually closing and he was lost to the darkness again. Vaguely, before he lost all consciousness, he thought he heard Cicil sigh and mumble to himself, “Well, that’s disappointing…” before the world fell silent again.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Trapped:_   
  
_We’re trapped! Trapped in this goddamn department store! I’m surprised everything is… holding together. There are cracks in the foundations, this structure wasn’t designed to be this deep, it’s putting too much pressure on the pipes and foundations. They’ll burst or break, hell some already have._   
  
_Buried at sea… after all that… after all the pain, we’re just going to be buried at sea…Clayton… my baby, he’s going to be… he’s here with us of course but… he’s going to be… It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It should be Ryan! It should be him, not us!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Cicil! We finally get to meet him after al this foreshadowing of the psychopathic Doctor... enjoy!


	8. I Can Dream Can't I

_Doctor Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Observation #33:_   
  
_Suchong observe strangest of coincidences. On other side of window, man in strange hat experimenting on Suchong’s own creation. On Plasmid. Man name of Fink. Outrage! Theft of intellectual property! But - man name of Fink is no fool. Through addition of oxidising agent, turns Plasmid ingestible through stomach lining. Mister Ryan very impressed with Suchong’s initiative. Theft of intellectual property two-way street._

* * *

  
When Frank next opened his eyes he could hear someone moving around, the sound of water running and metal being washed and cleaned. If he listened even closer he could hear someone humming too. The smell of copper hung in the air and remembered when he’d seen before passing out again.   
  
Groggily he turned his head to left of him again, but Anthony wasn’t there anymore, at least not all of him was. There was a brain in jar however, Frank had a feeling that was all that was left of Anthony.  
  
“Ah, you’re awake again. Finally,” Cicil said, coming over to him and standing just to the left of him. He held a tray with many sharp instruments on it. Frank’s head was a lot clearer than before and Cicil looked almost disappointed with him. “You know you really slowed my experiment time passing out like that. I can’t do brain surgery unless you’re awake and you missed all your lesson. Did you want to keep what is going to happen to you a surprise?”   
  
“You’re a feckin’ maniac!” Frank snarled pulling at his restraints. “Let me out! You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”  
  
“I think you have that the wrong way round,” the man mumbled before he placed the instruments he was using down. “But go on, humour me… who am I dealing with exactly? Other than an Irish man who’s severely out of his depth?”   
  
“People will be comin’ fer me and my people!” He snapped. “Where are… my people?! Where are they?!”  
  
“Hm. Well… the lovely man who had been next to you is here,” Cicil turned and tapped the lid of the jar, confirming Frank’s suspicions. “The blonde woman is in the fridge… that scarred man and red head are still going through the motions. A lot of guilt bundled up in their heads and that red head has a large issue with confined spaces… oh and as for the young man he’s alright. Just a lot of fun to mess with,” Cicil grinned at him. “I spend a lot of my free time just passing by with metal objects. Knives and other pieces of my surgical equipment just to see how he reacts. I swear it gets better all the time.”  
  
“Why is Abigail in the fridge?” He demanded, eyes narrowed at the madman.   
  
“Well, there isn’t a lot of her left and the only parts I care about are the parts I keep. Everything else is simply a waste. I throw it away,” he shrugged, going over his equipment and picking up a saw. “Now.. let’s find out what’s going on in that head of yours…”  
  
Frank’s eyes widened and he struggled against the restraints, trying desperately to knock one of the nails loose or undo the belt. Cicil looked amused his efforts, resting his palm over his eyes to hold his head in place. Frank yelled and cussed at him, trying to move his head out of the way with the doctor scolding him lightly for inconveniencing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he felt the cool teeth of the saw gently rest against his forehead. He wasn’t going to scream. He wasn’t going to give this sick bastard the satisfaction of begging and crying out in fear.   
  
Cicil may act like a doctor and had once been a doctor, but Frank could see the sick delight he took in terrifying his victims. He enjoyed making them see things that weren’t really there. He enjoyed manipulating their emotions and terrifying them.   
  
He let out a strangled noise as the saw dragged across his forehead for the first time, struggling even more against the restraints and trying to move his head out of the way. Cicil was holding him still easily, thanks to the amount of Plasmids and Tonics the man had taken, he was easily pressing Frank’s head against the table top and restricting his movement.   
  
“You see,” The doctor went on as he steadied him and tightened his grip on his saw handle. “I am like a god. Andrew Ryan I know has banished such notions, but I do not wish to worship a god, oh no I wanted to become one and thus I have. I have developed a hallucinogen that alters reality-.”  
  
“That’s what all hallucinogens do you fuckin’-!”  
  
“Hush now. As I was saying,” Cicil went on as he pushed the saw forehead and dragged it back. “Ah, hold still now… if you move too much I could very easily damage your brain and that wouldn’t be good for either of us. Now, as I was saying; I can alter reality. Change the way others see things, well, only a god can do that. Only a god can alter reality,” he smiled to himself. “So a god is what I am.”  
  
“A maniac is what you are!”  
  
“You really are quite rude you know? There is no need for such language and is that anyway to talk to a god?” He grabbed a hammer and slammed it down on his fingers causing Frank to let out a scream. “No, I didn’t think so.”   
  
Cicil fixed his grip on his head again despite Frank’s struggling, but before the man could continue with his intended mission, something went flying into him. Fontaine flinched as the saw fell near him and he saw Cicil being toppled over and then chucked over another table. The splicer that was attacking the mad doctor glanced at Frank, before smiling and waving, then it went back to its task at hand involving killing the psychotic doctor.   
  
“Atlas?” A little voice whispered next to him.   
  
He turned to find a set of warm brown eyes set behind blonde curls that he knew well. “C-Clayton?” He gaped at him. “What the hell are you doin’ here, lad?”  
  
“Saving you,” the boy responded like it was obvious. “Gabriel’s gonna keep that monster busy,” he went on while he undid the restraints on his arms and legs. “We gotta hurry… I can’t get my Mama or O’Riley out of here, they’re still screaming, I can’t move them,” he looked panicked. “I’m gonna grab Peterson, we’re gonna have to work together to get my Mama and O’Riley… I couldn’t find Abigail and Anthony.”   
  
“Anthony’s there,” Frank said as he slowly got to his feet, nodding to the brain in a jar. “And Abigail is in the fridge… we can’t do anythin’ fer em, lad.. they’re long gone. We can only save the ones that are still with us.”   
  
In all honesty, Frank was surprised Clayton was here. The little boy had probably come down by himself, most likely using the air vents. It was how Clayton had gotten around everywhere before hand. Even finding himself in places he really shouldn’t of been.   
  
“Clay’ did ya’ bring anyone else with ya?”   
  
“No.. everyone was worried, but Molly didn’t know what to do and they were planning things but it was taking too long…” he frowned, running over to Peterson, with Frank right behind him and they both began to undo the straps, telling Peterson to be quiet. “So me and Gabriel came down together. We came up with a plan when we realised it was just the one monster and then we put it to action,” he lead them towards the back room of the kitchen area, most likely where they would’ve stored supplies. “Mama and O’Riley are in here…”   
  
They wandered inside to find the two and they looked bad. O’Riley was sweating and Em had tear tracks running down her face, she was rocking back and forth, shaking her head. It looked like they were responding to things only they could hear. Frank watched as Clayton immediately ran to his mother, gently shaking her shoulder a little, talking to her.   
  
“What’s wrong with her?” Peterson asked, glancing at O’Riley. “What’s wrong with both of them?”  
  
“I’m guessin’ it was the same thing we went through lad,” Frank replied, though he wanted to hit Peterson for being such a goddamn idiot. What did he think was wrong with them? “We better get them out of here…” he looked around and his eyes widened in relief when he saw the radio and their weapons. Plus a whole supply of items.  
  
Rushing over, Frank grabbed the radio and used it. It didn’t take long for Molly’s relieved and panicked voice to come through the speaker. In the short amount of time they were able to arrange something and five other guys came to their aid, helping them move Em and O’Riley, while grabbing their things and nicking some of the supplies. Frank was even able to explain what had happened to us and just how dangerous Cicil was. He was glad to be leaving this area. They’d just block it all off and stop Cicil from reaching them. Just as they were about to leave and head back to camp for a well earned rest and medical attention, Frank realised that Clayton wasn’t with them.   
  
“The boy’s probably gone back for his splicer!” One of the men suggested.   
  
Frank ran a hand down his face and managed to force back the growl that was building up in his throat. He was going to give the little bastard a piece of his mind when he found him. Just what the hell was he thinking pulling a stunt like this? Clayton couldn’t shoot, he didn’t know how to aim still, Frank hadn’t been able to teach him yet. Hell, the kid shouldn’t even be here!   
  
“Alright, we can’t just leave him,” he pointed at three of the men. “You lot with me, Peterson and the rest of you get back to base, let them know what’s goin’ on. We won’t be long… hopefully.”   
  
They wandered for what felt like hours trying to find the boy. Cicil must of chased Gabriel a long way, but soon they were able to hear the sounds of a battle taking place. The familiar cat calls of the friendlier splicer and the indignant shouts of Cicil. Then, cutting through the noise was a distinct accented voice that Frank recognised in a heartbeat.  
  
He bolted in the direction, slamming the door open and finding Clayton standing in front of Cicil. The boy looked startled by their appearance, behind the doctor was Gabriel, skulking around on his hands and feet like a cat.   
  
“Clayton we got to go!”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Now!”  
  
“No!” Clayton glared at him, pointing at Cicil. “He hurt my Mama!”   
  
Frank could respect the sentiment he really could, but now was not the time. He wanted to throttle the little sod, but Clayton’s look was fiercely determined. So it would seem that in the month they’d been down here and the six months of Fontaine’s ‘death’, the kid had grown into his stubbornness. He was almost proud, but now was not the time or the place.   
  
“Clayton,” he grit, the men behind him had their guns pointed at Cicil. “Move. Now.”   
  
Cicil seemed to follow the direction better than Clayton because the splicer ran forward and picked up the kid easily. Clutching him to his chest and raising a knife to Clayton’s neck, a grin on his face as he backed away towards a second set of double doors. To his credit, Clayton didn’t look worried, in fact the kid damn right smirked.   
  
“Well, you know…” Cicil went on. “I haven’t experiment on a child before. This.. will be most exciting.”   
  
“You experiment on yourself before?” Clayton snarled, flicking his wrist.   
  
Frank caught the movement and watched as Clayton’s little fingers produced one of his bolts, except the liquid wasn’t gold or amber like it usually was. It was a burning orange.   
  
“What?”   
  
In one swift movement, Clayton slammed the bolt into Cicil’s leg.   
  
The man shrieked and let Clayton go, stumbling away from them, yanking at the bolt. Clayton ran to Frank and hid behind his legs. So his bravery had been short lived, but what a plan. What a move.   
  
He’d taught the kid well.   
  
Cicil stared at the bolt, then looked up at the group, a twisted smile spread across his face as he stumbled backwards towards the double doors.   
  
“My… this is going to be… a truly interesting experience…” he laughed, wobbling on his feet and stumbling through the doors. The doors swung ominously, creaking on their hinges and then the screams started.   
  
Clayton glared at the doors, the others watched in morbid fascination.   
  
When he looked down at the kid, he noticed that the other men were looking at Clayton uneasily. Frank couldn’t say he blamed them. The boy had been smart and unnervingly brutal. Hell, Frank was proud of him and he didn’t think it was the worst thing he could’ve done. It was justified. It wasn’t like the kid had killed the bastard.   
  
“Not bad, lad,” he grinned at him, maybe a little too much like Fontaine because the boy didn’t smile back. He stared at him like he’d seen a ghost, so Frank toned the smile down, bending down to Clayton’s height. “Are you alright?”  
  
“I…” he frowned at him, tilting his head to the side, but shook it and smiled back at him. “I’m fine, Atlas… just… scared..”   
  
“Well, you were awful brave,” he nodded, ruffling his hair. “Don’t ever do that again, alright? That was dangerous. You were lucky he didn’t have anything on him.”   
  
Clayton bowed his head and nodded.   
  
“Right,” Frank said, straightening and placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, leading him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here and block this place up. I’m done with that maniac. Least Clayton’s move will mean the bastard will be busy for a while.”   
  
“We could just kill him?”   
  
“Be my guest,” he pointed. “But between you an’ me, I almost lost my goddamn head!” He pointed at the bloody cut on his forehead. “I jus’ wanna get back. Besides, he’s probably long gone by now.”   
  
In truth, Frank was just using this as an excuse. If anyone was going to kill that deranged bastard it would be him. No one else. Privately and he’d make it as slow as possible. He couldn’t do that right now, not with these people around. A quick death was not something that Cicil deserved. Frank would find the bluntest knife he could find and slowly carve the bastard up before chucking him out into the salt water that surrounded them. Hell, he might just cut him up and stick him in one of the many puddles for the salt to get into his fresh injuries and then he’d set the bastard on fire.   
  
Contemplating how he was going to murder Cicil put Frank in a much better mood, despite the fact that his fingers were screaming in pain. As they made their way back, the pain gradually dulled into a faint throb, that was until he tried moving them. Wonderful. The bastard had broken his fingers on his left hand with that hammer. Not all of them, but still it hurt.   
  
Scratch what Frank thought about before, he was going to break every single bone in that bastard’s body, then cut him to ribbons, then dip him in salt water and finally set him ablaze. Maybe him and Clayton could roast some chestnuts or something over his burning corpse.   
  
The doctors they had looked everyone over. Bandaged Frank up and set his fingers in the right place. Safe to say he wouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting for a while, so maybe he could plan out some new tactics. The entrance to their section and Cicil’s was blocked off and various warnings were painted on the walls in case anyone got lost.   
  
It hadn’t been a total loss. They still had been able to grab some supplies. Food, bullets and such. O’Riley and Em were both okay, just had a headache. Well, physically that was all that was wrong with them, mentally they seemed to still be in distress. Em was so bad she didn’t talk to anyone, she just held onto her son tightly and rocked him back and forth. Clayton didn’t seem to mind, after all he’d almost lost his mother, he clung to her just as tightly.   
  
Frank had opted to leave them alone, going back to his make shift office. He spotted O’Riley on his way back, the man was sitting on top of one of the lighting structures not paying much attention to anyone. He had a bottle of bear by his side, clearly he was intending to drink away his problems. Frank couldn’t say he blamed him.   
  
Once he was safely in his office, Frank sat back like old times, pouring himself a drink and having a cigar. He’d missed these little luxuries, but they’d gone round breaking into places and stealing supplies. Cigars had been one such an item. The men insisting that they were an essential item. He knew as Atlas he probably should’ve argued, but he’d missed getting his fix so he hadn’t said anything.   
  
As he sat back, gazing out of the window, he tried to push the voices of the past clawing at his skull back. He didn’t want to think about those, seeing Chlo’s decaying and moving corpse was enough for him. No more trips down memory lane, thank you very much, he was done for the day. He was just thanking whatever being out there or what ever luck he had, that he hadn’t seen Reggie in that twisted reality. Reggie’s death was still fresh in his mind, he didn’t need a grotesque reminder of his fate. He didn’t need to hear Reggie gurgling and blaming him for his death. Chlo had been enough.   
  
A knock at the door had startled him, making him jump and he found Em staring at him. He probably looked a right mess to her right now, certainly not the charming revolutionary he was trying to seduce her with. A bandage around his head and along his hand. Eyes tired and sunken, he’d seen himself in the window reflected back at him. He knew what he looked like. Thankfully the cut hadn’t been too deep, so it wouldn’t take that long to heal. Cicil had taken his sweet time because he’d wanted to prolong it, just meant that Frank wouldn’t have to wear the damn bandage for too long. His fingers on the other hand would be a different story.   
  
“You alright, luv?” He asked, placing the cigar in the astray, getting up and walking round to lean on his desk. “Thought you’d be with ya boy.”  
  
“I was. Clayton’s asleep…” she replied, her voice sounding croaky. Probably because of all that screaming. “I would be asleep too but… when I close my eyes…” she shook her head, lip trembling a little, but she was able to collect herself. Thank god. Frank wasn’t sure what he’d do if she just started crying. “Anyway. I came to see if you were okay.. that bastard hit us all badly.”   
  
“You came… to check on me?” He rose an eyebrow, sounding genuinely surprised. “Really?”   
  
“Well, of course,” she stared back at him like he was funny. “Atlas, I know you’re supposed to be the big strong leader and you are. No doubt about that, but even the strong need help from time to time,” she walked up to him and smiled softly. “No one’s doing anything by themselves anymore, that’s what you said to me.”  
  
Frank blinked at her. His surprise was probably clear on his face because she suddenly looked so concerned and worried. She probably thought that he’d had a life where no one cared about him and that wasn’t true. Limey and Reggie had cared. Still cared. They just cared in a different way. Getting hurt was part of their life, it just happened, so they shrugged it off easier.   
  
_Getting killed is also part of this life. Reggie learnt that the hard way._   
  
He grimaced a little. He didn’t want to think about that. Still, whatever expression on his face had seemed to of melted Em’s heart a little more than usual, because the next thing he knew he was being pulled into a hug.   
  
Frank tensed up. He wasn’t a hugging person. His initial reaction was to shove her off, but that wouldn’t be very Atlas like of him, now would it?   
  
Instead he carefully and almost hesitantly returned the hug, resting his head on her shoulder. He frowned at the floor, confused with the mess of emotions flying through his head. On the one hand this was completely out of his comfort zone and he very much wanted it to end, but on the other.. it was nice. Nice to feel another person’s warmth and comfort. Nice to have someone be genuine and kind to him after going through something so awful. He blamed the horrid visions he saw and old memories for this moment of weakness.   
  
Slowly he pulled away from her and offered a smile, which she returned, but she didn’t leave. Was she honestly going to talk to him now? Ask him how he was feeling and offer to listen to him? He might just loose his mind if she did that. He didn’t need that. He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t weak. She’d just caught him at a bad time.   
  
“Look, Atlas…”  
  
“Focus on ya’self, luv’,” he said. “I’m fine, honestly. Though I appreciate your concern.”   
  
Em frowned at him. “That.. wasn’t what I was going to say, actually.”  
  
“Oh. Well, continue…” he gestured with his hand and smiled at her, hoping to god it looked fond. He was so damn tired. How long had they been down there? He’d never asked Clayton and no one had said. Probably better he didn’t know.   
  
“Okay…” she looked down and closed her eyes, nodding to herself. “Okay,” she looked back at him, determination in her eyes, that fiery spark he remembered seeing when he’d been Fontaine. “Listen, after what happened today well, it made me realise that… that we could die down here. That there is a chance.”   
  
Yes, there was. It was a constant chance, a chance he didn’t like being reminded of. Still, he nodded along and kept up the charade of actually giving a damn.  
  
“Well… it made me realise that I… I was tired of being scared.. so, I guess I’m biting the bullet,” she sucked in a breath and looked up at him. “You see, I’m.. I’m really quite fond of you, Atlas.”  
  
“What?” He was all ears now.   
  
Em sighed, rubbing at her eyes and looking to be getting more embarrassed by the moment. “I… I’ve grown to like you.. in a.. oh, sod it,” she mumbled looking him dead in the eyes. “I love you.”   
  
Frank would’ve choked had he been drinking. Granted this had been the plan all along, but he honestly wasn’t expecting it to have worked so quickly. Then again it had been seven months. Seven long months of little touches and secret glances. Hidden smiles and whispered compliments with the occasional pet name thrown in there. That wasn’t just him either, Em had been doing it also. The pet names came out usually when it was just him and her, she certainly wasn’t the most outwardly affectionate so easily and Frank was just fine with that. Neither was he.

Though this little exchange had caught him off guard, he certainly hadn’t expected Em to be quite so blunt about it, then again, this was Em he was talking about. She was nothing but blunt, he really shouldn’t of been so surprised.  
  
“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I just had to get it off my chest…” she closed her eyes and nodded. “Yep. I said it. Jesus christ, I said it… if I still drank I’d be heading for my licker cabinet about now..”   
  
She trailed off and stared at him as he placed a hand to her cheek. He gazed back at her softly, a gentle smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She gazed back at him with those big green eyes of hers. Like this and with no sharp edges, the woman before him was truly one of the most stunning he’d ever seen. He wasn’t blind. He’d always known Em was attractive, wasn’t just him either, but it seemed like the only one who didn’t know was her. Didn’t that make his job so much easier?   
  
“Christ.. I wasn’t expectin’ you to say it so plain, luv… ya beat me to the punch and rather caught me off guard.”   
  
“What?” She gaped at him.   
  
It really was all too easy.   
  
Frank leaned down and caught her lips in a kiss. Different to their New Years one, that had been born purely out of the need to irritate her and was entirely one sided. This kiss was soft and gentle, almost shy. It was a kiss two lovers would share between each other.   
  
Technically not a lie. Em loved him, or she loved Atlas and Frank… well, he loved messing with the woman. Pigtail pulling as Limey would call it, but Frank would deny that. He didn’t love anyone. He just enjoyed Em. She was… a lot more entertaining than anyone else and she was also damn right useful.   
  
Also, there was no stronger form of loyalty than one born of love. If he could manipulate that into what he wanted that loyalty to mean, well, Rapture would be his in no time. Even if they were stuck in this department store.. he’d get out. He’d work something out and then he’d have Rapture, with the best electrical engineer by his side to keep the place running.   
  
Pulling away from her, Em’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. He reached up and brushed a piece of her hair back, smiling right back at her.   
  
“I love you too..” He whispered back, leaning in to catch her lips once more and this time she met him in the middle.   
  
She’d fallen in love with a man who wasn’t even real. If Frank was any sort of a decent person he might’ve felt sorry for her, maybe even guilty.   
  
Once more neither of them noticed the two observes that stood just at the edge of the light, watching the scene with detached interest. The man and the woman watched Fontaine and Em interact with each other, raising an eyebrow as things seemed to get a bit more heated.  
  
“Well that, I wish I could say, was unexpected, but sadly it was quite clear all along.”  
  
“Opposites attract.”   
  
“In this case it’s the emotions that are opposite.”   
  
“The people too.”   
  
“He’s a well accomplished liar and she’s a well accomplished truther?”   
  
“Light and dark, dark and light. They find each other in the end. They always do.”  
  
“Needless to say, this is all going to end quite badly.”  
  
“It always does with him.”  
  
“And it always does with her.”  
  
“Perhaps in that sense they are made for each other.”  
  
“Dear me brother. Are you turning into the romantic?”  
  
“Simply stating what we’ve seen before.”  
  
“That being?”   
  
“He always finds her and she always finds him.”  
  
“They’re like two sides of the same coin.”   
  
“Both equally as damaged.”  
  
“Both equally as lost.”   
  
“Both equally as responsible for the other.”   
  
“Whilst we do already know how all this is going to end, it shall be quite interesting to watch it all pan out.”  
  
“How many times have we done this?”  
  
“Seven.”   
  
“We really need to find a better source of entertainment.”   
  
Lights flickered above them, distracting Em and Frank a moment, but they soon went back to paying attention to each other, neither noticing the absence of the two observers.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Good things come to those who wait:_   
  
_I.. finally told Atlas about my feelings towards him today. Figured if I’m going to die down here I should at least get that off my chest and wouldn’t you know it? He felt the same! Ha, all that time I spent worrying and fretting, but there was no need. He loves me and I love him. He’s been nothing but good to me and Clayton, tried to keep my son out of the war as much as possible. Should’ve known Clayton would’ve sneaked out to help us eventually._   
  
_Atlas has been like a father to him ever since we met. It’s perfect or at least as perfect as it can be down here, in this place. It’s just like I told Daniel, good things come to those who wait._


	9. Wonderful, Wonderful

_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_One month in prison:_   
  
_A month. It’s been a month trapped in this place. We’ve managed to make contact with Limey using morse code, means Atlas can keep control of the situation back in Rapture and plan an escape. I’ve started rationing bullets, making a few too, some special versions. A few exploding bucks, those have come in handy. There’s special types of splicers now, ones I’ve never seen before, but we’ve already given them names. Atlas hates the spider splicers the most, those crawl on the ceilings like Gabriel but they’re acrobats. Mum and Atlas came across a whole carnival of them in the main department store. And I mean a whole carnival, like a twisted circus._   
  
_But those aren’t the worst, we’ve got Frosties, shockers, hives, burners… list is endless. I hate the peepers the most, over spliced on the peeping tom plasmid…. They’re worse than the Houdini splicers._

* * *

  
Clayton held his hand up, crossbow in hand, pointed at the target. He was by himself and it was late, most of the others were asleep or patrolling.   
  
Clayton wanted to be alone. He was desperate to learn how to shoot, he was smart enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to rely on everyone. His interaction with that freak, Doctor Cicil, had proved that to him. Though it had felt like a good thing, treating him to his own medicine. Atlas had looked so proud of him and for the briefest moment, Clayton thought he knew him from somewhere else, but he shrugged it off. Probably reading too much into things.   
  
He took aim and pulled the trigger, but the bolt missed, just like the other five times.   
  
Lowering his hands in defeat, he sighed and began looking through his bolts for another one, loading it into the crossbow again. Briefly, he ran his fingers over the engraving. He read about Apollo, one of the many books he’d stolen from the book store while they were down here. He learnt about Apollo being this amazing archer and Clayton felt like he wasn’t honouring his legend much. He was terrible.   
  
“Ya’ pullin’ the trigger too hard.”   
  
Clayton yelped and span around to find Atlas leaning against the door frame. The man looked amused by Clayton’s reaction, holding his hands up in apologies. He pushed off the wall and walked over to him, glancing at the targets before looking back at Clayton’s crossbow. He held his hand out for it and Clayton hesitantly placed it in his hands.   
  
He watched as Atlas looked over the weapon, running his fingers along it and he even smiled fondly at the name engraved on the side.  
  
“It’s an elegant weapon, ain’t it lad?” He smiled at him. “Expensive too.. this is top market.. only the best for Fontaine, right?”   
  
“Yeah. It was only ever the best.”  
  
“Hm. Looks like he spoiled you rotten…”  
  
“He gave Jack a puppy,” the moment he said it, he wrapped his hands around his mouth, eyes wide.   
  
Atlas rose an eyebrow at him. “Just who is Jack now?”  
  
“He’s no one. Just a… kid that was at the clinic one time. That’s all,” he shrugged looking at the floor. “His parents were strict.. I only saw him once.”  
  
“I see. Well,” Atlas knelt down to his height and handed him the crossbow back. “I’ll show you how to aim and fire that. Be better to learn from someone who knows than ta’ try strugglin’ all by ya’self.”   
  
Clayton watched as Atlas moved his hands to the right place, placing his own hands over Clayton’s. Steadying his arms he gave him a few gentle instructions, even getting him to stand properly. Widening his stance and placing both feet firmly on the ground for the kick back.  
  
“Deep breath in and take aim…” Clayton did so. “Now.. squeeze the trigger and exhale… steadies ya’ aim.”   
  
He did as he was instructed and to his shock he was able to strike the target. It wasn’t a perfect hit, but it was better than a total miss. Clayton gaped, turning to Atlas who smiled softly back at him. The man reached up and brushed some of Clayton’s curls out of his face, his look almost fatherly, before he shook himself and went back to how Clayton knew him. A nice man, who seemed to have boundaries.   
  
“Well, there ya’ go. You’re a natural.. just a bit more practice and-.”   
  
“Can you teach me some more?”   
  
“I… sure, lad. I’ll teach ya’ fer as long as ya’ need.”

* * *

  
 _“Betty, you look positively enraged!”_  
  
 _“Oh! Gee I am! Fontaine’s was my favourite department store. What’s the big idea with Ryan sinking it?”_  
  
 _“Well, that’s an example of the few ‘bad eggs’ ruining it for the rest of us. Rapture was being undermined by growing number of… undesirable types. Where would you put them?!”_  
  
 _“Ryan does hate competition.”_  
  
 _“Betty! You know as well as I do these decisions came from the entire Central Council. If you can’t trust the Council, who can you trust?”_  
  
 _“I suppose you’re right. But where am I going to shop now?”_  
  
 _“I hear there’s a sale at Ryan’s Boutique.”_  
  
 _“Uh! Last one there is a rotten egg!”_  
  
“Do you remember that meeting, Bill? Cause I don’t…”  
  
“Kyburz…”   
  
“I’m just asking. Wanted to see if you remember that meeting, because I don’t… that’s all. Just a question,” Kyburz glared at him. “Are you telling me I can’t ask questions now?”   
  
Bill shot him a pleading look. He greatly wanted to get away from this conversation, that much was obvious, but Kyburz was fuming. It had taken him a while, but he was able to find out that Em was stuck in that department store and so was Clayton. He was livid.   
  
They were sitting in the bar that Daniel and Opal worked, ironically one of the Sinclair Spirit brands. Daniel wasn’t too pleased about working for Sinclair again but it was located in Euphrosyne’s Hall, a place that was filled with nightlife. The only place that could truly rival Fort Frolic, due to all the bars and nightclubs dotted around for the rich and famous. A few clothing shops were dotted around, mostly selling party dresses and at the centre of these buildings was a huge dance hall, that proudly proclaimed to be open twenty four seven with non-stop music and people dancing.   
  
Pablo was watching the argument with slight amusement, while Daniel stood behind the bar cleaning glasses, Opal was singing softly into the microphone. The place was filled with happy couples and groups of friends talking excitedly about some of the new plasmids that had been brought out. Even a few of the drinkable ones were back on sale. New drinkable plasmids in new fancy bottles. They’d been taken off the shelves for a while, however. These were probably just the ones they had left in storage.   
  
A couple walked past and waved at Daniel who waved back with a smile, before turning back to the staring contest going on in front of him.   
  
“Look, I’m just sayin’ we gotta be careful with what we say,” Bill glanced around almost nervously. “It wouldn’t take much for someone to take what you’re sayin’ out of context.”  
  
“Oh I’d say his context is quite clear,” Pablo mumbled as he took a sip of his drink.   
  
“Daniel, help me out,” Bill turned pleadingly to him.   
  
Daniel sighed and placed the glass he was cleaning down, leaning on the bar top. “Look, the place is going to shit, Bill. We all know it, you know it. Em is stuck in that department store with her son,” he narrowed his eyes. “That’s something I can’t forgive, but…” he fixed Kyburz with a look. “We have to be careful. Ryan’s getting jumpy. As much as I feel bad for Em being stuck down there, I don’t want to end up there myself.”   
  
“So you’re just going to duck your head and do nothing?” Kyburz growled at him.  
  
“And what exactly are you doing now, Kyburz, running a covert rescue mission?” Daniel snapped back at him, nodding down at the drink in Kyburz’s hand. “I mean, maybe in your head that’s what you’re doing…”   
  
“When did you turn into such an arse?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Pablo grinned raising his drink. “I kinda like this new side to Daniel… it’s entertainin’ to watch.”  
  
“This side of me was always here,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes at Pablo, turning back to Kyburz. “What I’m trying to say you idiot, is that you aren’t going to be doing much _saving_ if you’re sent down there too.”   
  
“We have to do something!”   
  
“What exactly would you have us do?” Pablo asked. “He’s got that place sealed off and on lockdown. There’s mines surroundin’ the entire building. How exactly are we gonna navigate past those?”  
  
“Ryan’s still sending splicers down there,” Kyburz argued. “There’s got to be a way down. A path the bathyspheres follow.”   
  
“And do you know what frequency that is?” Daniel asked, picking up his wash cloth to wipe down the bar. “I’m all ears if you do. I know how to change the radio frequencies on those things.”  
  
Kyburz looked down at his drink miserably. “No…”   
  
Daniel threw him a pitying look, glancing at the glass of bourbon before looking back at Kyburz’s disheveled form. “Uh-huh. Exactly. I don’t think you’re gonna find the answer at the bottom of that glass.”   
  
Kyburz’s head snapped up to glare at him angrily. He looked like he was going to chuck the glass at Daniel’s head. He’d been looking a lot like that recently. Scruffy and worn out. Daniel just felt sorry for him. He understood why Kyburz was acting like this. If it had been Opal stuck in that department store he’d be very much the same, but he understood also that Kyburz was far too emotionally invested in this. He wasn’t thinking clearly and with the way Rapture was going, he wouldn’t be able to save anyone.   
  
The Aussie opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when Kelly came bustling in, slamming herself on the stool next to him. She slammed a bunch of Rapture dollars on the counter, looking up at Daniel with black mascara lines running down her face.   
  
“Can I have a drink, Daniel. The strongest you’ve got.”  
  
“Umm..” Daniel blinked, frowning a little. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Kelly…”   
  
“Did I ask for your opinion?!” She snapped, banging the table top aggressively. “Drink. Now!”   
  
Daniel held his hands up in surrender and went about preparing the drink. He singled to Opal that Kelly was at the bar and immediately his wife moved away from the microphone, walking to Kelly. Daniel slipped the record player on so there was still some music in the bar.   
  
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Opal asked gently, placing her hands on Kelly’s shoulders.   
  
Kelly looked up at her with her black tear stained face and gestured noncommittally. “The restaurant I worked at, one of them at least, was burned down by splicers. Got no second job and you know how hard it is… to get a new one,” Daniel placed the drink down in front of her and she snatched it up, downing it in one go. “So..” She choked, coughing a little. “So, I’m most likely going to loose my apartment now…”   
  
“Oh honey…” Opal frowned, rubbing at her shoulders. “You can always come and live with me and Daniel..”  
  
“It’s not just that,” Kelly mumbled, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s everything. Em and little Clayton stuck in that place… not to mention O’Riley is down there too and then the whole thing with Fontaine…” she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. “I only just found out O’Riley was also stuck in that dreadful place too…”   
  
Daniel winced a little, watching as Bill slowly got out of his seat, almost like he was trying not to be seen. Unfortunately he wasn’t so lucky, because Kyburz whirled around and stood up, albeit on shaky legs, fists clenched at his sides with suppressed anger. He looked like a man that was fit to burst with uncontrollable rage.   
  
“O’Riley too?!” He yelled and Bill froze mid-step. Daniel imagined that he was wincing had he been facing them. “How many, Bill?” Kyburz growled, taking a few steps towards the Brit. “How many more of our friends did you help Andrew Ryan send to that pit?!”   
  
“I’ve got my wife and kid to think about, Kyburz,” Bill snapped, glaring at him. “I didn’t know about the department store until it was already being put in motion. I didn’t know when Mister Ryan was going to sink it-.”  
  
“ _Mister_ Ryan? Do you hear yourself?!” Kyburz yelled. “You still grant him that much respect, the hell has he done to keep that respect?! Just killed someone, sent a whole bunch of innocent people to a watery grave and you just stood by and let him!”   
  
“Don’t recall you doing much either, mate,” Bill replied carefully. “You were just as desperate to get rid of Fontaine. Don’t lie, Kyburz.”  
  
“Don’t turn this on me!”   
  
“Why, not?! You’re just as responsible as me! As any of us!”   
  
“Take that back!” Kyburz all but screamed, making Daniel wince a little. “You just stood by! Andrew Ryan isn’t a great man, he’s a fucking tyrant!”  
  
“Right that’s it,” Daniel mumbled running around the bar and shoving Kyburz out. The man looked stunned, staring at Daniel with a look of betrayal. “Get out, Kyburz!” The young man hissed, pushing at him again.   
  
“You’re turning on me too?!”  
  
“I’ve got my wife to think about!” Daniel snapped, pushing Kyburz out into the street. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that!”   
  
“So you’re being a coward?!”   
  
“I’m playing it safe!” He growled. “You’re being an idiot! You’re drinking stupid amounts and yelling things that if you’re not careful, will end up making you… conveniently vanish also…”  
  
“So you admit that people are disappearing too?!”   
  
Daniel grit his teeth angrily. “I keep my head down and do my work, I suggest you do the same.”   
  
“Bar keeping because… you left me!” Kyburz shoved him back.  
  
“I didn’t leave you!” He shoved back at him, only for Kyburz to shove back straight afterwards, almost toppling Daniel over.   
  
Daniel regained his balance, but instead of shoving Kyburz again, he pulled his hand back and struck out with a fist. He caught Kyburz across the chin and the man stumbled back. His lip was split and Daniel’s knuckles stung, glancing down he saw he’d split the skin on one of his knuckles because he caught it on Kyburz’s teeth.  
  
Pablo widened his eyes in slight surprise at the display, turning back to his drink. “Oh boy…” he mumbled and he winced slightly when he heard the sound of skin hitting skin harshly.   
  
Daniel and Kyburz were fighting on the street, throwing awful punches, a few landing, before they grabbed each other’s shoulders and began to tussle with each other. Kicking and hitting, trying to push the other to the ground.   
  
“Son of a bitch- are you trying to bring us all down with you, Kyburz?!”  
  
“You’re the coward! You’re not doing anything to save your friends!”   
  
“You’re trying to find answers at the bottom of a bottle! Trust me, you ain’t gonna find them there!”  
  
“Kick his ass, Daniel!” Pablo called helpfully, even though neither man heard him.   
  
Opal glared at Pablo, smacking his arm and pointed at the fight that she and Kelly had been watching. “Stop them!”   
  
Pablo gave a suffering sigh, before he got up and beckoned for Bill to help him split the two up.   
  
Daniel and Kyburz were on the floor now, Kyburz being slightly heavier build than Daniel had managed to climb on top of the man and rain punches down on him. Daniel was doing his best to protect his head with his arms. Pablo came up behind Kyburz and caught him under the arms, dragging him to his feet and Daniel was scrambling to his feet, fist raised, until Bill caught and grabbed his arms.   
  
Pablo and Bill held the two back, though they struggled and tried to reach each other by kicking.   
  
“You’re crazy!” Daniel yelled. “You’re gonna get us all killed! You selfish son of bitch!” He spat at him, spitting out blood along with his words.   
  
Daniel’s nose was bleeding and probably broken, his lip was also cut and swelling up, Kyburz’s lip was busted too and it looked like he’d be getting a black eye as it was swelling up already.   
  
Opal quickly rushed out, gently taking Daniel’s face in her hands and turning him to look at him. She’d never seen him get so angry or react so violently. Kelly was standing quietly at the door watching, her arms wrapped around her looking from one man to the other.  
  
“You’re a coward! You always have been and you always will be!” Kyburz snapped.   
  
Very slowly Opal turned to face him. Her face was stone cold and she marched up to Kyburz before slapping him hard across the face.   
  
“My husband is not a coward!” She snarled, pointing in Kyburz’s face. “He had the guts to come up and speak to me, you never had the guts to tell Em how you felt!” Opal crossed her arms, glaring furiously at him. “What do you think is going to happen, Kyburz? You save her and Clayton and she’ll run into your arms? Em isn’t the type! Daniel’s right and I think you know that, deep down you know that there’s nothing or very little we can do,” she narrowed her eyes. “But if you want to go ahead and blame all of us, be my guest. You’re drinking and being a complete fool!”   
  
“Oh yeah? What if it was Daniel or your sister stuck down there?” Kyburz hissed. “Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to try and get them out?!”   
  
“Yes, but I wouldn’t go accusing my friends!”   
  
Daniel turned to Bill and nodded at his arms. “You can let go of me… I’m not gonna do anything…”   
  
Bill eyed him cautiously, before slowly letting go of him. Daniel walked over to Opal, rubbing at his wrists, placing a hand on her shoulder he nodded to Pablo. The man slowly let Kyburz go, the Aussie rolled his shoulders and glared at him, before he attempted to take a swing at Daniel again.   
  
In a flash Pablo had caught his wrist, with a simple twist of his hand, there was a sickening pop and Kyburz screamed, clutching at his wrist. He backed away from them, staring at Pablo who looked just as surprised as everyone else did.   
  
Daniel’s face slowly melted from a look of shock to a cold and resigned look. “Leave, Kyburz,” he said firmly. “And don’t come back. You aren’t welcome here no more,” he turned to Bill glaring at him. “Neither are you.”   
  
Bill looked surprised, staring at Daniel who shrugged a little, glaring at him.   
  
“Kyburz is right, but he’s a danger to me and my family and by that extension so are you.”   
  
“How the bloody hell am I-?”  
  
“I don’t know what you might tell Ryan.”  
  
“I wouldn’t-.”  
  
“I can’t take that chance,” Daniel snarled. “As a family man, I’d expect you to understand.”   
  
Daniel wrapped his arm around Opal and began leading her back inside the bar, Kelly following behind them and retaking her seat.   
  
Bill sighed, slipping his hands in his pockets and went walking alone, while Kyburz huffed and turned on his heel walking away too. Clutching tightly at his wrist.   
  
That just left Pablo standing in the street, looking in the three directions of his friends and where they had gone, deciding that the one he worked with was more important than the others. He ran up to join Kyburz who glared at him while he only smiled back.   
  
“You broke my goddamn wrist! What the hell do you want?!”   
  
“Me? Nothing!” Pablo shrugged.   
  
“Then why the hell are you here?”  
  
“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

* * *

  
“That’s a rather unpleasant look on your face, Mister Sinclair.”  
  
“What can I say, Mister Ryan, you aren’t exactly my favourite person.”   
  
The two men sat across from each other in Ryan’s office glaring at one another. The tension was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.   
  
Sinclair still hadn’t forgiven Ryan for the mess he’d left him with regarding Persephone and some of the man’s other decisions he’d been making had certainly made Sinclair raise an eyebrow or two.   
  
The department store had certainly been a kick in the teeth to Sinclair. Now Ryan had a perfect place he could throw away his problems and the best of it was, he didn’t need to pay Sinclair for the services. As for as Augustus was concerned, every hour the department store existed, was an hour of pay he did not receive and with things getting as bad as they were, it was understandable that Sinclair was less then happy.   
  
Ryan had him contacted and had proposed a new business deal. Sinclair initially wanted to tell him where he could stick it, like Ryan had technically done to him in regards to Persephone, but he was too damn intrigued. What could Andrew Ryan want from him now? Had he already picked all of Sinclair’s usefulness clean? He felt like a skeleton that had been left to rot by vultures. His biggest resource had been Persephone, but now that was gone, he was having to put more effort into the Deluxe, Spirits and even his scientific devision Sinclair Solutions. Persephone had of course been a part of Sinclair Solutions, but obviously that was now off the table.   
  
“I can’t exactly say I’m all too fond of you either, Sinclair,” Ryan replied, his face a neutral expression that gave away very little emotion. If anything, Sinclair would say Ryan looked on at him with a look of contempt.   
  
“Then why did you call me?”  
  
“For the same reason you came. We are businessmen..” Ryan folded his hands on his desk. “I understand that you were also in dealings with Fontaine. Selling your own brand of Plasmids and Tonics along with his or other ADAM based products.”  
  
“Wasn’t a crime, was it, Chief?”  
  
“No. Not at all. In fact, I brought you here to suggest we resurrect that little enterprise of yours,” he let himself flash the briefest of smiles. “Doctor Suchong is working tirelessly to create new Plasmids and Tonics. As you can imagine the demand for them is quite substantial. It hasn’t been easy since Tenenbaum stole all of those Little Sisters…”  
  
Sinclair was unable to suppress a shudder at the mention of the children. He hated those damn orphanages, always knew Fontaine was up to something with them, just had never imagined what it actually was.   
  
He remembered the conversation he’d had with Fontaine regarding Clayton. How there were lines you didn’t cross, things you just didn’t do, interfering with children was one of those things. He’d told him right then and there that he wasn’t in the business of kidnapping children and that Fontaine wasn’t either. God, how silly that statement felt now.  
  
Sinclair recalled the last time he’d seen Fontaine, the man had been… well, not himself or maybe he was his new self. He’d changed. Most people wouldn’t of noticed it, but Sinclair did. There was a difference between not caring and not caring at all. A small difference to many of the folk who did not suffer from the affliction of not caring, but for those like Sinclair, who were diagnosed with such a thing permanently, there was a very big difference. An astronomical difference.   
  
In short, Fontaine had become more manic towards the end. Sinclair had a feeling it was something to do with the fact that the man felt uncomfortable. At the time he’d assumed it was more stuff to do with Clayton, but then the orphanages were opened up and by god did that shine a bit more light on the subject. Simply put, Fontaine had been uncomfortable with what he was doing to those little girls and he didn’t like it, but he wasn’t a good enough person to stop it. Sinclair would wager that the man had felt like he couldn’t stop it. That his plan and business was too far along, probably rationalised it in his head so he could cope, it’s what they all did after all. People like him and Frank. You rationalise it, you can cope with it.   
  
The manic smile that Fontaine had begun to wear, however, told Sinclair that no matter how much Frank rationalised, he could not cope. So he grinned and bared it. Very much like what Sinclair was doing now.   
  
“Uncomfortable, Sinclair?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think the fate of a business investment would strike your nerves.”   
  
“Business invest-?” Sinclair snapped his mouth shut and collected himself. “No, Ryan, the… fate of a _business investment_ ,” he spat the word out. “Does not strike my nerves, but we ain’t exactly talkin’ about just a simple business investment are we, Chief?”  
  
“The children,” Ryan said, almost like he was talking about the weather. “Are a valuable asset to Ryan Industries. We’ve had to procure new ones, but that wasn’t a difficult endeavour. Children are very easy to get hold of if you know where to look,” Sinclair felt sick with the way Ryan was talking, but the man continued. “We all have put our hands on the Great Chain of endeavour… my hand is on it… Fontaine’s was on it… we all pull and are pulled by it, yes, these children are an abomination, but it was not my hand alone that made them.. _no_. Their little fingers were right there next to mine.”   
  
Sinclair regarded him coldly. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ryan.”  
  
“The fate of a few children is not why I brought you here, Sinclair,” Ryan snapped. “Let’s not get side tracked. I was under the impression that you might wish to earn a little extra money, especially after you lost Persephone. Well.. I have a solution. Ryan Industries will give you our latest new tonics to sell under the Sinclair brand. A month down the line those products will become solely Ryan Industries products and you will receive our next latest Plasmid and Tonic products. You understand?”   
  
Oh he understood. He understood perfectly.   
  
“So I’m a scapegoat.”  
  
“A role I feel you are all too familiar playing.”  
  
“And if there are bad reactions, Chief?”   
  
“Well now, Augustus,” Ryan smirked coldly at him. “I’m sure a man of your talents and silver tongue can dissuade any bad publicity. We both know it’s a game you’ve played many times before, I’m sure you’ll be able to keep your head above water.”  
  
“Deep under the Atlantic Ocean, that’s a hell of a trick,” Sinclair drawled. “You flatter me if you think I’m capable to that.”   
  
“Do we have a deal or not, Sinclair?”   
  
Augustus very much wanted to say ‘no’, but he was loosing money. In the end, people wouldn’t be bothered about buying alcohol as much as they would Plasmids and Tonics. He needed that money. He knew he did and Ryan knew he did too. Sinclair was trapped. There was no way he could get himself out of this one and as much as Ryan was framing this as something he could say ‘no’ to…well, wasn’t that a nice little lie? A damn clever trick.   
  
Ryan knew Sinclair didn’t have a choice and the smug bastard had the nerve to frame it like he did have one.   
  
He hated Andrew Ryan.   
  
“I suppose, Chief…” he replied, glaring back at Ryan who smiled smugly at him. “You want it in writin’?”  
  
“Always,” Ryan placed a contract on his desk and handed him a pen. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Sinclair. You made the right choice.”   
  
Sinclair sighed his name, slamming the pen on the desk and getting to his feet. “I made the only choice!” He snapped, before turning and marching out of Ryan’s office. Slamming the door on the way out, making Diane jump in surprise. “Quite the catch you got there, Ms McClintock,” Sinclair bit out as he went marching past her desk. “Why any girl would be lucky to have him and if I’m not mistaken, any girl in Eve’s Garden regularly does.”  
  
It may be a low blow, but Sinclair decided that having Ryan chewed out all evening by his fiancé was certainly a scenario that brought a smile to Augustus’s face.  
  
He found himself in the bathysphere at Hephestus and, pulled the lever, taking a seat while the sphere sank down into the icy depths. Sinclair put his head in his hands and sighed, closing his eyes a moment as he tried to calm his facing thoughts and come to term with what he’d just done.   
  
_‘There are lines, Frank, that you do not cross…’_  
  
 _‘You crossed those lines a long time ago, don’t try and kid ya’self.’_   
  
Sinclair squeezed his eyes shut as Fontaine’s words echoed around his head. Their conversation that day, Sinclair had been utterly appalled by the very idea of harming a child or him having any connection to something involving a child’s death. Now look at him. Signing a contract with Ryan to continue use of Plasmids and Tonics, to continue selling them, in full knowledge of just where they were getting their ADAM.   
  
He felt like he was eating his words a lot recently. Doing things that a younger Augustus Sinclair would’ve shrink back at. Recoiled in disgust and snapped out not so kind words before storming away. He was not a good enough person to stop it, but he would be a good enough person to not be any part of it.   
  
_‘Why one would say the enablers are just as guilty as the perpetrators. Maybe even more so, wouldn’t you say?’_   
  
Yes, his own words were certainly coming back to bite him or choke him. He felt like he was drowning.   
  
“Just business…” he reminded himself desperately. “It’s just business. That’s all it is.”   
  
It wasn’t and he knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t ‘business’ anymore, it was survival. Pure and selfish survival.   
  
“Damn you, Frank, for leaving me to clean up and become responsible for your mess. So what if you got yourself killed, ya’ don’t have to take the rest of us down with you!” He all but spat into the empty sphere.   
  
Silence was the only thing that answered him, though he swore if he concentrated just enough he could hear Fontaine’s mocking laughter directed at him and soon one of the voices from the past joined him.   
  
_‘Oh Mister Sinclair, you just have a heart o’ stone’_   
  
God, if only that were true.

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Sinclair Solutions:_   
  
_Augustus Sinclair is what happens when spineless moral relativism is spun into the business ethic. The man has a dirty finger in each and every pie. But I admit, his little firm has its uses. I’m having him use the Sinclair Solutions brand to conduct clinical trials in the field. If there are any incidents with side effects of newer, less stable Plasmids, no one will associate Ryan Industries with the death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 isn't my best chapter, so I figured I'd give you a better one with Chapter 9. I'm still getting used to writing action scenes, they're the ones I have the most trouble with, but I think I'm getting better.


	10. The Trouble with Me is You

_John Stevens,_   
  
_No Mary without John:_   
  
_Gotta keep taking… gotta keep taking the tonic, gotta look my best ya know? That’s how showbiz works! Mary, the bitch, I think is.. plotting to toss me out! Well screw her- actually, no, don’t do that.. she’s awful to look at- just… she ain’t getting rid of me! You can’t have Mary without John!_

* * *

  
Limey sat by herself staring at the little needle that bobbed up and down as a message was sent to her from the department store by morse code. She would often find herself sitting by this little device by herself. Occasionally someone would bring up a cup of what passed for tea down here and some food. She mostly kept to herself, she wasn’t the social type and now without Reggie or Frank she was almost a hermit.   
  
She relayed the orders from ‘Atlas’ to the rest of his followers, which was able to keep the people together as best they could. They’d even started to highjack the radio stations and fire Frank’s Atlas propaganda through them. Even now, while he was stuck in that damn store, Frank was playing the long came. He was keeping up and it was his greatest con. He prided himself in it.  
  
Staring out of the little circle windows she watched some fish swim by, before reaching for her so called tea and took a sip. She grimaced at the taste and slammed the cup down again. The day she could no longer taste the awfulness was the day she’d been having the damn stuff for too long.   
  
Another message came through and she wrote it down, before replying with her own message. While she waited for a reply, Limey took out her packet of cigarettes and lit a new one. Blowing the smoke to the ceiling she began to write down the reply that was coming through, flicking some of the ash into the ashtray by her work station.   
  
Cigarettes and tea, that was all Limey needed to get by in this world. Oh and stealing. Though, it was mostly tea and smokes as Frank had put it. He’d been fifteen at the time, grinning widely at her as he said that cheeky line, earning a laugh from Reggie. The big bruiser had ruffled his hair, Frank had protested like any teenager would and Limey had dutifully smacked the back of his head lightly. It had all been… so delightfully normal.   
  
Sighing she took another drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke to the ceiling and wishing she could just turn back the clock and go back to the way things were. Sure, they were criminals, it was their way of life, but they’d never been dragged into something as big as this. It certainly hadn’t costed them as much as this con was. They’d already lost Reggie… though she felt now that they’d lost Frank a long time before then.   
  
His smile had become more and more manic as the years had gone by. Sharper edges, a cruelness and coldness to it that hadn’t been there before. Yes, Frank had always had a twisted sense or morals and a messed up idea of humour, but so did she. So she couldn’t judge him for that, but some of his decisions he’d made recently and the things he’d said. Those she could certainly judge him for.   
  
There were moments where it felt like Frank, her Frank, had died a lot sooner than his supposed death. Around the time of the Little Sisters was the time that the boy she’d raised and known had slowly disappeared. Until all that was left was what remained now. A cruel, bitter and angry man determined to make the rest of the world pay for everything that had ever gone wrong in his life. That was not the boy she knew, but it felt like the boy she knew wouldn’t be coming back.   
  
Sitting alone gave you a lot of time to think and she came to the conclusion that even if they did get Rapture… that wasn’t going to be the end. Not like it was originally intended to be. It would only to be the start. Limey wasn’t too sure she could keep going with this, but she couldn’t leave now. Whilst he may have changed to something she barely recognised, Frank was still her boy, as far as she was concerned. She wouldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t abandon him to rot in that store, she’d be with him right to the very end. Even if it killed her.   
  
After all, you didn’t turn your back on family.

* * *

  
Emilie sat at the edge of the bed, slipping her shirt back on and rolling her shoulder blades as she did it. She pushed her hair out her face and sighed slightly, looking down at the sorry excuse of blankets as a makeshift bed.   
  
“You’d think in a department store they’d at least have some mattresses…” she grumbled, rubbing irritably at her shoulder.   
  
A chuckle sounded behind her and Atlas sat up, laying a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. “You’d think… but we gotta make do with what we have, darlin’,” he paused before laughing softly. “Though I must confess… I did surprise meself..”  
  
“How so?”   
  
“I didn’t think there was any part of me that could still enjoy a good roll in the hay while on the floor… pleasantly surprised…”   
  
Em smirked at him. “That’s because you haven’t tried to stand up yet..”  
  
“Very funny. Ya a right comedian…” he rolled his eyes. “Jus’ how old do ya’ think I am?”  
  
“You were the one who started talking about the specifics, not me,” she winked at him, leaning towards him and softly kissing his lips. “I’ll gather up the men..”  
  
“Hm. No, not too keen on the idea of sharin’ ya’.”   
  
She whacked his arm and he grinned at her. “For scavenging. We still have to deal with that toy department splicer, that is unless something else hasn’t killed him yet,” she got up, stretching her arms a little and wincing when her bones cracked. Atlas winced along with her in sympathy and she sighed, rubbing at her shoulder once more. “Goddamn it. Can we please get a mattress? I don’t want to sound like an old gate every time I try to get up. I’m only in my thirties…”   
  
Atlas seemed to ponder this a moment, thinking carefully before a frown fell across his face. “I don’t think so. Mattresses were on the other side of the department store.”  
  
“Of course they are…” she paused, looking back at him and grinned. “We could always get a hammock.”  
  
“Yeah…” Atlas replied, his face flat. “Not happenin’.”   
  
Em laughed, grabbing her rifle and hand cannon, grabbing her boots as she made her way out of the room. “I’ll see you downstairs…”   
  
She took the elevator down, finding everything just as she’d left it. Slightly destroyed and broken, people rushing back and forth, no doubt grabbing food to make people breakfast with. She sat at one of the tables, slinging her rifle off her shoulder while she slipped her boots on. Lacing them up and tying them, she watched some of the people for a moment, some looking more spliced than others.  
  
The spliced ones made her nervous. How long was it going to take them to turn into raving lunatics? She knew that a whole group of them had braved venturing into the main building of the department store so they could grab the drinkable Plasmids. Get their ADAM fix, but now they were running out. She’d seen what she’d done to her place when she ran out of alcohol one time, before she’d made the decision to go sober, it wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t high on a drug that also slowly destroyed your brain either.   
  
Sighing to herself, Emilie wandered outside, heading towards the main planning and supply room. That’s where everyone would be that would be useful in a raid. She wasn’t surprised to find O’Riley already there, Clayton was standing with him, holding up some bullets and helping O’Riley load up all the guns.   
  
The moment her son spotted her, he quickly ran over and greeted her with a hug, which she returned just as fiercely. He’d grown quite a bit, now she didn’t have to crouch to hug him. Clayton was dressed in his bomber jacket, a yellow cloth wrapped around his arm to show his affiliation with Atlas. On the back of his jacket, O’Riley had been able to paint a design of gold wings with a set of arrows resting over the top of them, a crossbow in the centre. The words ‘Rapture’s Apollo’ ran along the the top of the design.  
  
Clayton had been thrilled with the design on the jacket once it was presented to him.  
  
As they walked back to O’Riley, Clayton explained what they were doing excitedly, he was always eager to help where he could. He’d also been doing quite a bit of splicer research so they knew how to deal with the individual special types. More often than not, Em would find him down here, moving boxes or preparing ammunition. Rationing it out to people and keeping a list of everything they had. He was basically keeping them organised, him and Molly both were.   
  
Atlas soon joined them, once a team was assembled, they all left. Taking the elevator down to one of the much lower departments, this one had once been an extension of McClendon Robotics. The place was littered with old animatronics, their paint was chipped and pealing. Some of them were missing their limbs and all their wiring was exposed, while a few suffered sever water damage.   
  
They wandered through, guns trained and ready just in case a splicer decided to pop out. They did like to scream and shout a lot, yell bloody murder as they charged at you. Ironically with murder in mind.   
  
As they walked past one of the displays, the animatronic must of been motion activated, because it suddenly sprung to life, moving jointedly and speaking its taped recorded lines.   
  
“Shit!” One of the men cursed as he span around, pointing his gun at the thing, while it jerked and fizzled.  
  
 _“W-w-welcome to McClendon- Mc- Mc- McClendon RobBotiiiiccccsss- making- MAKING- MaKINgggggg life in rrrraPPPTure s-s-s-SimPLer-er-er-er…”_   
  
The animatronic powered down, it’s jointedly moving arms freezing in place and horrid recording coming to a stop as the water damage finally caught up with it.   
  
They stared at it for a moment, almost daring it to move, but it didn’t. It stayed as dead as the rest of the building, frozen in a mimic of human movement.   
  
“I really hate those things…” Em mumbled as she glared at it.   
  
“I think we all do,” Atlas agreed.  
  
“Can I shoot it?” The man that had gotten scared asked. Caleb, Em recalled his name was.   
  
Atlas shook his head. “We don’t want to waste the ammo.”   
  
Em thought she heard Caleb mumble something about it not being a waste, the man Josh, who was next to Caleb laughed a little, O’Riley looking vaguely amused. Atlas rolled his eyes, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, though he also looked slightly amused by the other’s comments.   
  
The group continued walking through the place, ending up inside the main hallway which was lined with animatronics, a set of double doors rested at the very end of the long corridor. Occasionally they would jump at the animatronics that still possessed the function and ability to move. One of them Josh did blow up with his shot gun, making them all glare at him. He apologised almost sheepishly, giving a little smile and a shrug.   
  
“Guess I’m jumpy…”   
  
“Keep it together,” O’Riley mumbled, rubbing at his temples. “Steady your hands.”   
  
Slowly they made their way towards the main part of the store, behind the double doors. The main section held electronics and other inventions she’d seen at the main McClendon workshops in Minerva’s Den. Self driven baby carriages, toasters, a few turrets and security cameras that thankfully were display only. The main part of the store was big and open, with six supporting pillars running along the edge of the room. It was quiet and dark inside, casting a bluish tone to the word around them, a room that would no doubt had been painted up in warm browns and golds. Now it was coated in darkness and cold.   
  
At the very back of the room, behind the counter, was a place marked ‘workshops’ for in store repairs and altercations. A few lockers for the staff lined the wall behind the counter too. Names were written on the little pieces of paper that were slipped in there. Names of people that were either spliced or dead.  
  
Em shook her head, she was making a beeline for the workshops, intent on stealing some of the tools. Well, was it really stealing when the person who’d used to own it was now dead? Looting would be a better description she supposed.   
  
She pushed the door to the back workshops open, taking a moment to stare at what was left. A floor to ceiling window sat at the corner, the tell tale cracks hinting towards the increased water pressure creeped at the edges of it. Water pooled underneath it, slipping through some of the bigger cracks. The room was just as dark and still as the one outside. Seeing the workshops like this always made her shudder. Em had spent most of her life inside a workshop at some point and they were always busy, always filled with some sort of life. Wether that be sounds, smells, or just the mere presence of workers, there was always something going on. To see this room so empty and devoid of life, it really brought home for her just how lonely they truly were down here.   
  
Slipping her rifle onto her back, while she rifled through draws and picked up tools and supplies she deemed useful. Even picking up some of the blueprints for the turrets and cameras. That was going to come in useful, there were a lot of turrets around and she had no doubt Rapture was filled with cameras now.   
  
Pausing a moment her mind drifted back to the city that sat safely above them. She wandered how bad it had gotten now or was it better because Ryan had somewhere to dump all his splicer problems? What had become of her friends, did they still think about her? Were they okay? Were they all still together? What were they doing?  
  
Em stopped her searching, slowly walking to one of the windows in the little workshop area, staring up at the glowing city. It sat, shinning like a beacon in the endless darkness, calling to her. Salvation and warmth, the department store wasn’t the hottest place, she really needed to look at the thermostat. Problem was, it was in the toy department and that place was still overrun by the puppet splicer. That was the name they’d deemed him.   
  
Shaking her head, Emilie walked away from the window, returning to her search of tools. She even found a mini hand held engraver. Not sure what she’d used it for, but she took it anyway. Incase they wanted to do something fancy later, maybe something with the weapons or ammunition. You never know.   
  
Walking out of the workshop, bag filled with useful loot, she found the rest of them looking through the cash registers, opening draws and desks. Atlas seemed to of found some more blueprints. He glanced at her and held them up for her to see, shaking them and she nodded. The more blueprints, the better. She might be able to make heads or tails of things. He shoved them into his own bag, opening another draw.   
  
“Jesus!” Josh yelled, jumping back from one of the workers lockers, only to have a body come tumbling out of it and lying on the floor.   
  
They stared at it. Waiting for the thing to move or twitch, it was clearly a splicer, but thankfully it was very dead. Judging by the smell it had been dead for a long time too. At least they hadn’t found it after it had started to putrefy. They’d already had the joy of opening a barrel once and finding what had been the liquidised remains of a body. It looked like it had been there for months, long before the store had been sunk. None of them wanted to know why it had been there.  
  
“That’s taking workplace hijinks a little far,” Em remarked dryly and Atlas laughed slightly, while the others stared at them. She shrugged a little. “If you don’t laugh, you’d cry.”  
  
“You’re right…” O’Riley mumbled, glancing back at the body, “Still there’s a time and a place, Ms Em.”  
  
“Alright,” Atlas raised a hand. “Search the body, see if there’s any cash or ammo on it.”   
  
O’Riley turned to Josh and nodded, but Josh just stood there staring at him like he was crazy. He shook his head aggressively, looking at them all as they stared at him expectantly.   
  
“No!”  
  
“Josh.”  
  
“No, I’m not.. why do I have to be the one that searches the rotting corpse?!”   
  
“You found it,” Caleb shrugged. “It’s your rotting corpse,” he pointed at it. “Go on, get in there.”  
  
“You get in there!”  
  
“Will one of you bloody idiots do it already?” Atlas said, looking exasperated. “It’s just a body, it ain’t gonna harm ya’.”  
  
“But the smell and…”   
  
“Josh.”  
  
“Ugh! Fine!” Josh sighed in defeat, kneeling down and reaching a shaky hand towards the splicer body. He thumbed at a piece of clothing, lifting at the old and wrecked cardigan, slowly lifting it up.   
  
“Watch out!”  
  
“Fuck!” Josh flailed and desperately scrambled to his feet, face as white as a sheet.   
  
Caleb was doubled over laughing, Atlas, Em and O’Riley were giving him unimpressed looks, but the man was too busy laughing at Josh to care.   
  
Josh’s face went from a brilliant white to a brilliant red as he began cursing the other out. Yelling angrily at him, Caleb continuing to just laugh at him, the two soon got into an argument. O’Riley took this moment to search the corpse hisself, coming away with some cash and a few bullets. There were some potato chips, but he left them there, deciding that he didn’t want to eat anything that had been on a dead body. Sealed packet or not.   
  
Josh and Caleb were still bickering with each other, Josh looking considerably indignant and flustered. Caleb just looked infinitely amused and continued to poke fun at the other.   
  
The sound of the door opening in the other room made them fall silent. They even heard the animatronic at the start of the store going off, that meant someone was here.   
  
They stayed silent, staring at the door leading into the area they were in, listening for any telltale sign of what or who could be wandering around outside. Chances were it was a splicer and hopefully it was just one. One splicer was easy to deal with, it’s when you got them in groups that they became an issue. They had a pack mentality.  
  
“Child star? Child star? I’m just a STAR. PERIOD.”   
  
“She told me to stop callin’, so I did! Now I just hang around outside the place she’s stayin’…”   
  
Splicers. Two of them, maybe more.   
  
Atlas quickly signalled for everyone to hide and they all moved as silently as possible. Josh and O’Riley ducking behind a counter, Caleb hiding behind one of the many support pillars, with Em ducking down by an exhibit, Atlas flanking behind another one of the support pillars.   
  
They waited quietly and patiently for the splicers to come through. Em tightened her grip on her gun. Peaking her head a little round the side of the exhibit she’d hidden herself behind. Staring at the double doors that lead into the main hallway of the store.   
  
“I can win her back!” The deranged splicer cheered from behind the door. “I just gotta keep my chin up!”   
  
_Gonna need to do more than that_ , Em thought to herself, glancing over at O’Riley who seemed to be holding onto his gun like it was a life line.   
  
He was staring at the floor, but it didn’t look like he was really seeing the floor at all. Like he was lost in his own head, his own world. Probably having flashbacks of the war. She wondered if he’d ever been in a situation like this before, not that he’d ever say anything, the man didn’t talk about the war.  
  
“Did you ask to be brought into this world?” A woman’s voice suddenly sounded through the door. “If your parents expect anything from you, tell them to get it in writing!”  
  
The door opened and the female splicer walked inside, followed by six others. It was a group, a rather large group, filled with a bunch of different types. Some were carrying guns, others were carrying old pipes and baseball bats. They were covered in blood and ripped clothing, makeshift masks, similar to the one Gabriel wore, were covering their faces. A few of the men had even placed boxes on their heads, looking through the gap you’d place your fingers through.  
  
“Sparky coming?”   
  
“He’s coming.”  
  
“Better be. Old Sparky is gonna love… I mean.. _love_ this place!”   
  
There were two female splicers and four male splicers. The women were clutching hand cannons, their hair was still done up neatly, a few strands had managed to slip through. They wore masks that looked like they’d been made out of paper māché, hiding no doubt a horrendous set of skin deformities. They wore simple little dresses, one pink and one blue, torn and ripped, blood stains were splattered across them. Makeup was sloppily and brightly applied to their faces, as the mask only covered one eye. Bright blue eye shadows and rosy pink cheeks, they almost looked like a painted up doll. A set of pearls was hung around both of their necks and it looked like they’d been shopping at the same store.   
  
The male splicers were dressed in suits, some had their waistcoats open, one had it closed and his clothes didn’t look as damaged or destroyed as the others. One of the splicers was dressed in sports gear and another had a teddybear strapped to its back with multiple lethal crossbow bolts sticking out of it. All of their clothes were bloodstained and covered in grime. The splicer with the teddybear protection had a vending machine, circus of values clown face crudely placed over his face. The one with the nicer suit had a mask of a smart looking man with hat, no doubt cut out from a magazine, while the final two wore the boxes.   
  
“I’m just honoured to be in the competition and… gee, I hope you all like me. Because I’d like nothing more than to be Miss Rapture 1958…” the female splicer dressed in pink said, her voice sounding sweet and kindly, probably the last remaining echoes of who she’d once been. “Well, he’s gotta be handsome AND smart and self-assured like Andrew Ryan… And good with his hands like Doctor Steinman!” She giggled, stumbling a little as she walked.  
  
Emilie almost gagged at the mention of Steinman. She was honestly surprised she hadn’t seen him down here yet. He seemed like the type to her, that belonged here. Maybe he just pulled in too much of those Rapture dollars. Ryan couldn’t get rid of him. Either that or Cohen pulled some strings. Lunatics together she supposed. 

“Dressing you down?! Far From it…” the splicer with the teddy bear mumbled, leaning over one of the exhibits, looking through it as he continued to mumbled to himself. “It will go much further… we will unmake you- so you can be made anew…”   
  
Josh shuffled uneasily, knocking his head on the desk and cursing slightly. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth while the others glared at him slightly.   
  
The splicers had all reacted instantly, quickly becoming alerted to the noise and voice. They heard the tell tale sound of the guns being cocked and loaded, the sounds of pipes being dragged across the floor towards them.   
  
“Confront your weakness!” The teddybear splicer yelled, charging forward, machine gun pointed at the desk, quickly shooting at it. O’Riley and Josh ran quickly towards another place to hide, while Caleb, Em and Atlas returned fire on the splicers.   
  
Soon there was a firefight starting up, the splicers yelling the cursing angrily at them, some were even taunting them. Thankfully none of them seemed to have any Plasmids, but they jumped around and were quick, so they had certainly taken enough Tonic to be difficult to handle.  
  
“We’ll carve away your shortcomings!” The teddy splicer yelled, charging towards Caleb who open fired on the splicer with his machine gun. The bullets ripped through the splicer’s body, but it kept going, firing back and forcing Caleb back behind cover.   
  
The teddy splicer coughed and spluttered, blood began soaking its clothing, stuffing from the teddy had burst all around it from the machine gun fire. Blood began to leak out from under its mask, the paper covering it’s mouth wafted in the heavy breathing and gasps for breath. No doubt the splicer was fighting to breath from the blood that was filling up it’s lungs.   
  
“You’ll exceed or DI-!” Its last words were cut off by Atlas who’d managed to fire off a shot, striking it in the head and the splicer collapsed, blood and fluffy white stuffing, which was slowly being stained red, surrounding it. The blood began to pool out, stretching across the floor.   
  
At the sight of one of their own going down, the splicers became enraged, charging angrily at them, no longer taking the care to hide or look for cover. One of the splicers wearing a box on its head, swung the pipe it held at Em’s head but she was able to dodge just in time. Scrambling backwards as the splicer advanced towards her. She heard Atlas shouting to her, but her attention was firmly locked on the splicer that was coming towards her. She shakily pointed the rifle at the creature, it was hardly a human being anymore, she knew that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to pull the trigger.   
  
“I’ll show you ‘not good enough’!” It screamed at her, swinging again with the pipe and she rolled out of the way, scrambling to her feet. “You’re heartless! Totally heartless! After all I done!”   
  
She dodged another swing, wincing as it bent the locker where it struck. Em took a few more steps away, holding the rifle tightly in her shaking hands.   
  
_‘You’re a survivor, Ms Em,’_ Reggie’s friendly words echoed in her head that day he taught her to shoot.  
  
Em squeezed her eyes shut a moment, before looking up at the splicer angrily, glaring at it as it struck out at her again. This time she didn’t back away, she ducked and then swung the butt of her rifle round, cracking it hard against the head. Well, box in this case. She hit it so hard that the box flew off and revealed the horrifying disfigured face underneath.   
  
Now she could see the monster for what it was, it made it easier. She swung the butt of her gun again, cracking it hard across the head once more, before kicking it away from her. Then she took the rifle in hand, aimed and pulled the trigger.   
  
The splicer’s head exploded into a fantastic display of red, white and pink. Blood, bone and brain flew through the the air and even coated her face. She closed her eyes as she felt the warm blood splatter across her face. She knew it all happened quickly, but to her, it felt like slow motion, like she felt every single droplet of blood that hit her face.   
  
Slowly she opened her eyes and spotted Atlas across the hall, shooting one of the female splicers in the head. She dropped instantly, her pretty pink dress slowly starting to stain from the blood coming out of her head.   
  
He looked up at her, it looked like he’d been heading over to help her while the other three dealt with the three other splicers. His eyes widened at the sight of her, running his eyes up and down her body, before his brilliant blue eyes met her emerald green ones.   
  
A scream caught their attention. Turning she watched as one of the other male splicers with a metal pipe, struck Josh hard against the head. The man dropped instantly, groaning and looking dazed, while the splicer raised the pipe above its head to strike again, no doubt the blow would kill him.   
  
Em reacted instantly. Whatever hesitation she’d had before, she no longer bothered with. She shot the splicer in the arm and it yelled, turning around to look at her shocked. The expression would be firmly fixated on its face as she shot it in the head, dropping the splicer.   
  
O’Riley quickly ran over, pulling out his old service weapon and clipping the last female splicer who yelled, stumbling away and clutching at her arm. Caleb jumped out from behind his own cover, lighting up the female splicer with a burst of machine gun fire. The bullets easily tore through her body, the blood quickly began to seep through as she fell to the floor. It stained the white dress, the blood spread out, following the pattern of the white dress, blooming like fresh summer roses. Ironically, from a distance, the staines looked like an intentional pattern of roses or poppies.   
  
The final splicer O’Riley shot in the head, after Em made it stumble with a shot at its kneecap. It never stood a chance, toppling to the ground, the box falling from its head and tumbling across the floor before it came to a stop.   
  
“Josh, you alright!” Caleb yelled quickly running to his side, while O’Riley helped him up. The man groaned and clutched at his head, using O’Riley’s shoulder to steady himself. “Fuck.. that hurt…”   
  
“Yeah of course it will.”   
  
“Good job ya’ got a hard head,” Caleb laughed, his laughter trailed off and widened at the sight of Em. “Jesus Christ… Ms Em, are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine…” she mumbled, eyes wide, glancing to Atlas he put his hand on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. “I’m fine.. I… I’m fine..”   
  
“You don’t look..”   
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Alright,” he held his hands up, “Lower the gun, darlin’,” he offered her a slight smile. “Ya got one hell of a shot, my love.”  
  
“Well… I did learn from the best,” she mumbled, turning to the other three men, O’Riley and Caleb were helping Josh to walk. “You alright, Josh?”  
  
“I’m fine, Ms Em, just got a sore head..” He looked at her. “You sure you’re okay?”   
  
“Yeah, I am,” she fiddled with the gun a moment. “First shot is always the hardest I guess…”   
  
Atlas rubbed her shoulder gently, nodding towards the exit. They picked their way through the dead bodies, walking towards the exit, with O’Riley and Caleb helping Josh along. They had been lucky with this one. It could’ve been a lot worse than what it was. They had been lucky to get the drop on them. If it had been different there were so many ways it could’ve gone. Mostly likely ending with them being dead.   
  
“Put the damn bag down,” O’Riley snapped at Josh. “But the supplies-.”   
  
“I got it,” Em said, walking back to them and taking the bag from Josh’s shoulder, slinging it on her own.   
  
“We good?” Atlas asked.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Alright, let’s head on ba-.”   
  
“Atlas!” Em screamed, eyes wide and scrabbling for her gun, O’Riley and Caleb doing the same.  
  
Confused, Atlas turned around, going wide eyed at the electric grin that was shot back at him by the overdosed electrobolt splicer. He desperately reached for his gun, but the splicer quickly placed its hands on his shoulders.   
  
Atlas’s body went rigid, the gun dropping out of his hands, teeth clenching together as the electricity was passed through his body. He convulsed for a few moments, before the splicer let go and the would be revolutionary’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the floor.   
  
The others didn’t even get time to react, before the splicer was blasting shots of electricity at them. In their panic they quickly hid behind some of the displays, the three men together and Em hiding on the other side behind one of the pillars.   
  
The smell of ozone was heavy in the air, the same thing you’d smell in light of a thunderstorm. The room was lit up by the blinding lights of electricity as the splicer shot off its attacks. The splicer’s skin was almost translucent, you could see its veins and tendons underneath the layers of skin. The electricity ran up its arms and shot out of its finger tips with a few simple flick of the wrists. It laughed and called out to them, teasing and giggling. It didn’t have much of a nose anymore, hell it didn’t have much of a face anymore. Just a flat surface with two glowing blue eyes.   
  
“Ya reckon that’s Sparky?” Caleb mumbled as he loaded his gun.   
  
“What do you think?” O’Riley bit back.  
  
They both peaked over the top of their cover, firing shots, Em peaked around her own cover doing the same, but the bullets ricocheted away from it. Bouncing around the room, as the splicer seemed to have that much electricity running through it, the bullets were easily deflecting.   
  
“Whoa!”  
  
“Oh shit!”   
  
They all quickly hid back behind their their respected pieces of cover as the bullets bounced around, the splicer laughing loudly.   
  
“What do we do?” Caleb asked, reloading his gun.   
  
O’Riley began to rack his brain furiously, looking around for something, even looking up at the ceiling and that’s when he saw them. Sprinklers.   
  
He quickly turned towards Em and desperately pointed at the roof. She stared at him, confused, before she saw what he was pointing to. It didn’t take long for her to catch on to what he was planning. She took aim with her rifle at the splicer, before trailing her aim up towards the sprinkler system, shooting the pipes above the splicer’s head. Almost instantly, water began to burst out of the pipes, cascading down onto the electric splicer.   
  
It shrieked and screamed, but unable to move as it’s entire body shook, limbed rigid and eyes wide. The splicer then collapsed to the floor after a moment, the water had stopped and they watched it collapsed to the floor. They waited a few moments, watching it out of fear that it would jump back up again, but it soon became clear that wasn’t happening any time soon, if at all.   
  
Slowly they creeped out of their hiding places, Caleb helping Josh along, standing over the splicer that lay mostly likely dead on the floor.   
  
“Nice plan, O’Riley,” Em mumbled, before she quickly ran to Atlas, kneeling down at his side.   
  
“Yeah.. water beats electricity…” O’Riley mumbled, before he joined Em by Atlas’s side, helping her rouse the man from unconsciousness.   
  
He groaned and coughed a little, wincing when he glanced at his shoulders were two handprint shaped electrical burns lay. O’Riley helped him to his feet, as did Em and they took his weight, leading him out towards the exit, James and Caleb in tow.   
  
“You just attract trouble,” Em scolded lightly.   
  
“It’s a gift..” Atlas slurred slightly, leaning most of his weight on O’Riley. “Though I did learn one valuable thing..”   
  
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”   
  
“Don’t be a human lightnin’ rod… it ain’t great, luv’…”  
  
“If you weren’t hurt I’d slap you,” she mumbled, instead leaning to kiss his forehead. “I’m glad you’re alright…”   
  
“Me too.”   
  
“So…” O’Riley mumbled. “Those burns don’t look as bad as they could’ve been. Looks like your clothes gave you some protection.. it could’ve been a lot worse. Won’t take too long to heal I shouldn’t think.”   
  
“How’d you know?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Since when are you an expert on burns?”   
  
Very slowly, O’Riley turned to him, his scarred face fully visible once he snatched his flat cap off. Though as if to prove his point, he wordlessly pointed at it and widened his eyes at Caleb meaningfully.   
  
Caleb blinked owlishly at him, before mumbling a small, “Oh. Right.”   
  
O’Riley rolled his eyes, slipping the cap back on his head. They were quiet for a moment, before Em sniggered slightly and Atlas began to laugh along with her, soon Josh and Caleb were sniggering and then O’Riley joined in with them. They shared a brief moment of laughter, carrying on through the main hall, towards the elevator.  
  
“Jesus christ.. how is it that I was the one that got electrocuted when I’m teamed with you two bloody idiots…” Atlas mumbled, shaking his head, but a smile was still on his face.   
  
“Because you rush head long in to danger,” Caleb replied. “Like a true hero.”  
  
“Like a true idiot ya’ mean.”   
  
“Well, that too..”   
  
As they walked past the first animatronic again, she sprang to life once more, muttering and moving oddly.   
  
“Can I shoot her now?”   
  
“Knock ya’self out…” Atlas mumbled, while Caleb took aim and shot the animatronic to pieces.   
  
“I’ll be glad when we get back to base,” Em mumbled, hitting the button on the elevator once everyone was inside. “Got to wash this splicer blood off me,” she went on, reaching up with her sleeve and wiping it away as best she could. “Probably should get a new shirt too… not that I’m going to find one..”  
  
“Like lookin’ fer a mattress in a department store,” Atlas added helpfully, gaining some funny looks and a slight glare from Em. He grinned cheekily back at her and she sighed, rolling her eyes, smirking playfully back at him.   
  
“I told you, we need a hammock.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Clayton sleeps in a hammock and he’s fine.”   
  
“That’s because there’s only one of him.”   
  
“I wasn’t going to be sharing.”  
  
“…No hammocks.”   
  
“What’s wrong with hammocks?” Josh asked.   
  
“Stay out of this.”   
  
“Sorry.”

* * *

  
_Mary Kestral,_   
  
_Can’t have one without the other:_   
  
_Who does he think he is? He asked me today if I believed in any of the commercials we’ve been performing. I of course said yes. How stupid does he think I am? I don’t believe a damn word I’m saying but at least I’m still here. If I say a thing out of line I’ll disappear. I… I know what he’s doing. He’s just trying to get rid of me! Well, he’s got another thing coming! You can’t have John without Mary!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could it be... two chapters in a day? Yep! Hope you enjoy this one!


	11. Nocturne

_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_New name:_   
  
_Mum’s been given a name down here, like Atlas except… not as nice. The men have started calling her the Angel of Death… after the last bomb she made to handle some splicers… I can see why._

* * *

  
Two months had passed. Had it really been two months, Clayton didn’t want to believe it. He’d thought that they’d be out by now, by the looks on a few of the others faces, they all thought they’d be out by now too. Sadly that was not the case.   
  
He was in the main base, fixing up supplies and making new types of ammo. Different splicers couldn’t always be taken down with regular metal bullets, as they had learnt when dealing with the electrobolt splicer last month. It was becoming a problem, especially since Ryan kept putting more and more of the spliced up maniacs in the department store and then a few of their own had gone off the deep end, forcing them to cast those out. They were just too dangerous.   
  
As if the splicers weren’t dangerous enough, turned out there was a Big Daddy in the department store too. It just walked around and mostly ignored them, it hadn’t come up to their floor yet, so they were safe for now, but that puppet splicer hadn’t been so lucky. The Big Daddy had killed him, the men and women that came back after scouting the area told them it was a real mess down there. The splicer was in no better shape. Torn to shreds by the drill. His insides were now on his outsides apparently. On the good side, however, it meant they didn’t need to worry about him anymore.   
  
Clayton sighed, moving some of the special ammo he’d made to the side. Water buck, explosive buck, electric buck; that one he was quite proud of, not to mention the water and paint bombs he’d made. Water for the electric splicers and paint for the peepers that were high on the peeping tom plasmid. They were tricky to deal with and a few had been found behind their lines. As soon as they were found, they were taken care of, but it was still unnerving to know they could get there.   
  
He packed all the different types of ammunition away, glancing around the room, he saw the old need to know theatre that had been brought up here. The need to know theatres were meant to be educational and informative theatres that the citizens of Rapture could use to get up to date on the latest. Like having the news paper, but it was read to you, in a way. Sometimes they even featured a few of Sander Cohens weird movies. Clayton had watched one, they were very odd.   
  
This particular theatre had been about educating the people of Rapture about the death of Fontaine. Or at least, Ryan’s version of it. Not the real one. Atlas had taken this one and altered what ran inside it to his own brand of educational learning as he put it. Clayton hadn’t actually seen it, but now, he was curious and it was just him. He was all alone here right now, everyone else was either working upstairs or out on patrol.   
  
Setting down the water buck he’d been looking at, he wandered over to the theatre, reading the new title that had been written over the original one. It had originally been called, ‘Taking the Taint out of Fontaine’, but now it was called ‘Message received, Ryan’, which Clayton thought was an odd title for Atlas to use. It almost sounded personal.  
  
Shaking his head, he used a box so he could climb up comfortable and watch through the little kaleidoscope in the centre of the machine, pulling the lever to make the film play.   
  
Immediately tribal war music filled his ears, the image showing a man that was clearly Atlas silhouetted against the light. Atlas’s voice soon joined the image as he spoke, the images on the screen quickly began to change.   
  
_“The time has come, brothers and sisters. Did you want to keep climbin’ Andrew Ryan’s ladder, just to watch him knock it down right as you’re reachin’ the top?”_ The words were said with such aggression, that it really did feel like this was personal to Atlas. Clayton wondered how much damage Ryan had done to the man, he knew his brother had died in the shootout, but that paled in comparison to the anger radiating out of the words being spoken. _“The cards are stacked. What’s a bunch of fine words, if there ain’t deeds to back them up? Rapture was supposed to be different. But the only thing that separates it from the slums of New York or Glasgow are the about a million gallons of salt water,”_ as if to prove his point, the image shifted to a black and white image of the surface of the sea. _“Ryan sent a clear message when he had Frank Fontaine put down: “It’s time all you learned your place.” I’ll tell you what, Ryan: Message received! Loud and Clear!”_ Clayton giggled as at first there was an image of one of the many sculptures of a golden arm and hand holding a chain, but someone had gone over the image in a white pencil to make it look like the hand was sticking its middle finger up. _“And here’s what the people of Rapture have to say to you!”_ Images flashed of some of the new Plasmid advertisements, used for defending yourself in little cartoon drawings, but it mostly focussed on the dead characters. _“If you won’t give us what we want, we’re more than happy to come and take it!”_   
  
The video faded to black and Clayton lifted his head away from the kaleidoscope, smiling to himself. The part with the hand had made him laugh, even though he’d heard and seen swearing before, that image was just too funny. He could almost image Ryan’s irritated face when he saw this. He’d be so angry, Clayton wished he could be there to see it, but he’d probably be hidden away in Hestia Chambers, once they got back to the rest of the city.   
  
The radio on his belt crackled and Atlas’s voice came through the speaker, addressing him directly. Clayton quickly tugged it off his back, bringing it up to his face so he could respond.   
  
“Atlas?”   
  
“Hey, lad. Think it’s time fer another one of ‘em radio shows. You be able to put another one up fer us lad?”  
  
“You got it! I’ll put it on now- oh! Also I was able to label the ammunition and make another set of water buck! I’m trying to come up with something to beat the hive splicers, but I’m thinking explosive will do good, their skin’s just like paper now thanks to the bee hives so-.”   
  
“Slow down lad,” Atlas laughed down the radio. “Can make neither head nor tail of what ya’ sayin’.”  
  
“Oh, sorry,” Clayton cringed a little. “I just got excited. I was trying to tell you I’ve come up with a way to stop the hive splicers.”  
  
“Just a little genius you are, ain’t ya’! Good work lad, I’ll be sure to look at those when I get back.”  
  
“Thank you, Atlas,” Clayton grinned. “I’ll go and turn on the radio now.”   
  
“Thank you boyo, you do good work Clay’, don’t think I’d be able to keep a cool head without you and ya’ Ma. See you in a few.”   
  
The line went dead, Clayton clipped the radio back on his belt, running to the little makeshift radio station they had. It was were they’d been blasting all their pirate radio to give the poorer folk hope, as well as anyone else that might be sane and stuck in the department store. Just a little something to keep their spirits up.   
  
He flicked a few switches, turned a few dials and hit play on the recorded audio, listening to the radio that sat next to him as the music was interrupted by Atlas’s voice coming through the speaker. It was different to the one in the need to know theatre, his voice was now caring and reassuring.   
  
_“You think you’re alone down here? Well brother, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: you ain’t alone. No, Atlas stands by your side, ready to tell all them silver spoon types, like Andrew Ryan, where they can stuff it. Come on up to see your pal Atlas at the redistribution booth, and he’ll put food in your belly and hope in your heart. Just because you’re down, it don’t mean you’re out.”_   
  
The radio fizzled out, but it would start up again soon, it was on a timer to play a different little bit every two hours, so it didn’t get too annoying. It even played up in the main city of Rapture too so everyone could hear it. So everyone could get that little bit of hope.   
  
Atlas really did know how to keep people going. He understood people, could get them to band together and finally work together like they were supposed to.   
  
_‘You’re really smart, Mister Fontaine.’_  
  
 _‘Nah, just understand people. It’s how ya’ reel the suckers in.’_   
  
Clayton froze. His hand nervously reached up to play with his watch. It was a nervous tick he’d picked up, but he couldn’t get rid of it. Mapping the watch out gave him an odd sense of comfort, like Mister Fontaine had never died and was right there with him still.   
  
_Maybe he is_ , his treacherous brain whispered to him. _You’ve noticed the similarities between him and Atlas. Is it so much of a stretch to think they’re one and the same?_   
  
He frowned and shook his head irritably. No point in having stupid thoughts like this. As much as he didn’t want to believe Fontaine was dead, he was. He’d been dead for seven months, give or take. He was gone. Atlas wasn’t like him, not completely. For one, Atlas was considerably more friendly than Mister Fontaine ever was. He wasn’t as angry either.   
  
Clayton had always felt there was a great cloud of anger floating over Fontaine, following him everywhere, so that even when he was in a good mood, it wasn’t really a good mood. There was always this underlying tone of anger to him. Of course, Clayton didn’t know what he was so angry about, he’d never told him, but he always seemed to be angry about something.   
  
Atlas wasn’t like that. Atlas didn’t get angry.   
  
As if acting by themselves, his eyes slowly moved to the need to know theatre and Atlas’s angry voice cut through his moment of peace once again. Just like Fontaine’s ghostly voice did from time to time.   
  
_‘Did you want to keep climbin’ Andrew Ryan’s ladder, just to watch him knock it down right as you’re reachin’ the top?’_  
  
 _‘Ryan sent a clear message when he had Frank Fontaine put down.’_  
  
 _‘I’ll tell you what, Ryan: Message received! Loud and Clear!’_  
  
 _‘If you won’t give us what we want, we’re more than happy to come and take it!’_  
  
 _‘-a clear message when he had Frank Fontaine put down.’_  
  
 _‘Taking the Taint out of Fontaine- Message received, Ryan!’_  
  
 _‘Just because you’re down, it don’t mean you’re_ out _.’_  
  
 _‘-when he had Frank Fontaine put down.’_  
  
 _‘-it don’t mean you’re_ out _.’_   
  
“Shut up!” Clayton yelled, clutching at his head and pressing the palm of his hands against his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut, before covering his ears too for good measure, even though it was his inner thoughts that were running a mile a minute. He sometimes hated how fast and quick his brain worked at times. In a few and far between moments he was scared of his own mind because of how it worked. Sometimes he was even quicker than a few adults and those were the moments he got scared.  
  
The thoughts quietened down, he opened his eyes slowly, looking around the empty room. Clayton’s gaze locked on the need to know theatre again, but he turned away from it just as quickly. Running up the steps towards the exit. He decided that maybe being on his own right now wasn’t a good thing and he should help out upstairs. Most of the stuff was done down here anyway. There was no need for him to be by himself.  
  
“Though there’s little to like in this Atlas fellow, one must admire the lit in his brogue.”   
  
“I do commend this recent effort of yours to find the good in people.”   
  
“Sadly it’s all a lie.”   
  
“The effort?”   
  
“The accent.”   
  
“I don’t suppose there’s much about the man that’s authentic.”  
  
“He’s authentically homicidal.”  
  
“And you view this as a positive?”  
  
“Well, one has to start somewhere.”   
  
Clayton froze in the doorway. Slowly he turned around and looked back into the main area of the newly dubbed ‘war room’, but there was no one there. He could’ve sworn he heard a man and a woman talking. They almost sounded similar, like a brother and sister maybe, both British, but there was no one.  
  
Sharking his head Clayton turned away from the room again, the lights overhead flickered, but he hardly took any notice. They’d been doing that a lot recently, everybody had just about gotten used to it that it barely registered with them anymore when it happened.   
  
Quietly watching from their place on the floor, the two observes had returned. The Lady’s hands were firmly clasped in front of her and the Gentleman had one arm in front of him and one folded behind him. They were dressed in the finest Georgian attire, a suit for the Gentleman and a suit with a skit for the Lady. Both in the same colour scheme and design, their red hair was neatly parted and styled, not a hair out of place. Their faces gave little away of their emotions, but it hardly mattered, especially when no one else could see them. Not unless they wanted to be seen.   
  
“Did you see that? The boy heard us, almost saw us.”   
  
“Yes that was an interesting moment wasn’t it?”   
  
“He’s getting close to the truth.”   
  
“That he is. A smart child for his age, he rather reminds me of you, brother.”  
  
“Which by default means he also reminds you of yourself.”  
  
“I feel like this comparison is going to lead to a request.”  
  
“We should give him a nudge.”  
  
“The boy works it out on his own, we know this, we’ve seen it already.”  
  
“There is no harm in a gentle nudge.”   
  
“Yours and my definition of a ‘gentle nudge’ are two very different interpretations. I hardly see why we must get involved. Besides, we never tell him.”  
  
“Hm. I suppose you’re right. It would be a shame to alter the ending, as well as interfere with the boy’s fate for the better.”   
  
“I detect sarcasm.”  
  
“It was my intention.”  
  
“Fine. A gentle nudge, but my interpretation of the definition, not yours. You have a tendency to over tip your hand.”

* * *

  
Bill, Sullivan, Karlosky and Redgrave sat in the Pub that Bill owned, drinking quietly, listening to the radio that played in the background. It was late in Rapture, the radio was playing a gentle evening tune, thankfully nothing to do with Sander Cohen. Then the music stopped and Atlas’s voice came through the speaker.  
  
Bill reached forward and turned it off, sighing softly before taking a sip of his drink. Even sank in makeshift prison, this Atlas was proving to be difficult. He still had connections up here in Rapture. As much as Ryan liked to think that he was well rid of the Irish revolutionary, Bill had the terrible feeling that he really wasn’t. That Atlas was only just getting warmed up and he’d be raring up to deliver the knockout punch.   
  
“That man does not know when to shut up,” Karlosky mumbled as he drank some of his homemade vodka. “Fontaine’s death should’ve taught him lesson.”  
  
“I think that was the straw that broke the camels back, mate,” Bill said, glancing at the radio again. “It just… It just don’t sit well with me knowin’ Em’s down there with her lad. Clayton’s only nine years old.”   
  
Redgrave looked down at his own drink sadly. “Too young,” he mumbled to himself. “Kid’s too young to be in there.”   
  
“Em made decision, she sided with Atlas,” Karlosky shrugged. “You know what Ryan says: All make choices, but choices make us in the end.”  
  
“I can’t help feelin’ we made the wrong choice, ya’ know?” Bill glanced at Sullivan who hadn’t said anything yet. The security chief was busy staring into his glass which was empty. Bill had only just topped up two minutes ago and this was his fourth glass. It looked like the chief was hitting it pretty heavy tonight. “Did we make the right choices, chief?”   
  
Sullivan looked up at him, blinking owlishly at him with glassy brown eyes. He gave a half felt shrug. “Does it even matter anymore?”   
  
He supposed it didn’t. It should matter, the right or wrong thing should always matter, but here in Rapture? Well, right and wrong was blurry at the best of times and it was slowly becoming none existent. Right and wrong was now being decided and dictated by Ryan. No one else really had an opinion anymore, even though he still called Bill to his office for guidance. In all honesty it was a farce. There was no reason for Bill to be there at all, because even when he tried to talk Ryan out of doing something, the man ended up doing it anyway.  
  
Bill had believed that once Fontaine was gone Rapture would go back to how it had been. That things would be normal again. He was sadly very much mistaken. If anything, it felt like since Fontaine had died, the city had gotten worse. The city was dying, slowly decaying like an infected limb. Getting sicker and sicker, the lights would flicker and go out. Some lights had been shut off completely due to the stores they were advertising no longer existing. The owners either dead or spliced. The shop abandoned or destroyed completely.  
  
Ryan wasn’t willing to see it, however. He looked at the posher ends of Rapture, at Market Street, High Street, Fort Frolic and Olympus Heights. He didn’t look at the poor places, at the Drop or Hestia chambers, where people were picked off and killed by rogue splicers that hadn’t been caught yet.   
  
Children were disappearing too. That fact alone had made Bill shudder, he dread to think what had happened to them. They’d searched for these children. These little girls that had either wandered away from their mothers or just been playing outside by themselves. Their mothers looked out their window to see their little girl playing happily, they turned away for a second and when they looked back, they were gone. Their toys the only evidence they’d ever been there to begin with.   
  
Missing posters had gone up around the city, begging for someone, anyone, to come forward with information. People spoke in whispered voices amongst each other. Rumours were flying about the gossipers in regards to the missing children, the rumours so big that they were even reaching Bill.   
  
Some believed it was cult related, others thought it was a rogue splicer or several and a few pointed the finger at Ryan. Blamed him for the children and just as promptly as they opened their mouths, the very next day you could guarantee they’d changed their opinion. You’d look at them and maybe the men were standing a little straighter than usual, clutching at their sides or maybe for the women, their makeup was layered just a little thicker than usual and they were wearing a long sleeved dress or cardigan.   
  
Then there was the Little Sister’s orphanage. The Little Sisters that suddenly appeared out of no where. They’d all been taken by Tenenbaum and suddenly, Ryan had them again. Bill very much doubted they were the same girls. He had an idea of where those girls came from, when he saw them staring back at them with their bright little faces and happy little smiles. Their hair done up in various styles. Yes he’d seen their individual missing posters on the streets and then he saw them, what had become of them, standing uniform in a line. Neatly dressed in little pinafores of blue and pink, their hair all uniform and styled the same way, faces painted white to hide their discoloured skin. Finally, there was a faint yellow glow to their eyes that you wouldn’t notice unless you really looked at them. They all looked the same, whatever form of individuality and childhood, real childhood, they’d possessed before, had been sucked out of them somehow.  
  
Bill knew why they looked like that. If they all looked the same, then no one would be able to see their own child in them. No one would be able to recognise them, as they got lost in an endless line of little girls. Like a product line.  
  
“It should matter, chief,” Bill bit back, glaring slightly at him. “The right or the wrong thing should matter.”   
  
“You think anyone can tell the difference anymore?” Sullivan rose an eyebrow. “Morals have always been flimsy down here, you know that, Bill.”   
  
“They’re becomin’ non-existent!”   
  
“And you try tellin’ Ryan that,” Sullivan laughed bitterly. “Like talkin’ to a brick wall. There’s no reasonin’ with him, if ya’ want my advice, I think you should just keep quiet and agree with whatever he asks you.”  
  
“I don’t like that.”  
  
“You’d hate the department store even more, I’ll tell ya’ that much.”  
  
“The thought of that makes me blood run cold.”  
  
“Exactly. Also,” Sullivan shot him a meaningful look. “You’ve got a little girl, Bill. You’ve seen those missing posters… ya’ family needs you. Do it for them.”   
  
Bill looked for a brief moment scared and unsure. He gripped the bar top tightly for a second before speaking. “Ryan wouldn’t… he _wouldn’t!_ Not mine! He wouldn’t!” He closed his eyes, bowing his head a moment, before looking back at them. “Would he?”   
  
Sullivan looked back at him gravely. “Best not tempt fate.”

* * *

  
“Thought I told you not to come back here?”   
  
Kyburz held his hand up in peace while Daniel glared at him, hands resting on the bar top. “It’s been a month, Daniel..” He sighed. “I came here to apologise. I shouldn’t of said those things, I lost my temper. I’m just worried about Em.”  
  
“It’s not just you that’s worried about her, ya know?” Daniel bit back, crossing his arms. “We all are. Ripping our heads off isn’t the right way about it.”  
  
“Yeah I… I know…” he sighed, nodding his head. Kyburz slowly walked over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. “So… can I get a drink?”   
  
Daniel regarded him a moment. Looking him up and down, casting a glance to his bandaged hand that was still healing, though it was almost fixed now. He looked back at Kyburz once more, taking in his appearance. He looked better. Looked like he’d gotten some sleep and tidied himself up a bit since he last saw him. He was looking a little bit like the man Daniel had met in 1948. That was ten years ago now… time really ran away from you didn’t it?  
  
He nodded at Kyburz and the Aussie smiled at him, resting his damaged had on the bar top, while Daniel set about making his order. He was guessing that Kyburz would want it the same as usual and poured him a double bourbon on the rocks, placing the glass down in front of him.   
  
Instead of gulping it down like he had been the last few times, Kyburz took careful sips, not downing the whole drink in one go. It would certainly improve his mood he was sure of that. Being sober had certainly improved Daniel’s after all.   
  
“I am sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“I was a jerk though.”   
  
“You were a bastard.”   
  
Kyburz winced a little, but nodded. “That’s fair.”   
  
“I’m glad it is,” Daniel replied cooly. “I’d lamp you if you said anything different.”   
  
“No,” Kyburz shook his head, rubbing at his jaw a little. “Between you and Em… I’m good.”  
  
“Em?” Daniel frowned at him. “When did she hit you?”   
  
Kyburz sighed, rubbing at his forehead and gave a little shrug. “Ya know.. the night Fontaine showed off his Plasmids for the first time, the night you proposed to Opal.”   
  
Daniel’s eyes widened in recognition and he nodded his head. “I knew there was something going on between you two.”   
  
“Sadly not the thing I wanted,” Kyburz laughed. “It’s Em, by the way. I… the girl I’m in love with is Em.”  
  
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I already worked that out,” Daniel shrugged, turning to some new customers and taking their orders. He began to mix the drinks while he continued to talk to Kyburz. “You’re not exactly subtle, Kyburz.”   
  
Kyburz laughed bitterly. “Yeah. I guess I wasn’t… couldn’t of been that obvious though,” he smiled tightly at him as Daniel placed the drinks down for the two new customers, taking their money and running it through the register while Kyburz continued. “She never noticed, never realised.”   
  
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t obvious,” Daniel said, handing the change to the customers and thanking them, before he went back to Kyburz. “You know what Em was like the moment you brought up the idea of romance. Even if she did work it out, she’d never accept it. She’d never believe that someone loved her like that without you blatantly going up to her and telling her, ‘I love you’, she’d never accept it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because Em has a very bad self image,” Daniel explained, starting to wipe down the bar. “Opal told me. Explained that Em’s really lacking in confidence when it comes to her looks. Nothing any of us can do about it,” he said, shrugging a little. “The only person who can is Em herself.”  
  
“I should’ve just come out and told her,” Kyburz mumbled, rubbing tiredly at his face. “I should’ve just told her and things would’ve been different, I’m sure of it.”   
  
Daniel frowned at the bar top, paying very close attention to it instead of looking at Kyburz’s face. He wasn’t the best at lying, he didn’t want to say anything that would hurt Kyburz’s feelings. Truth was, Daniel didn’t think that Kyburz telling her would make any difference. He wasn’t the right kind of guy for her. Em had a tendency to go to her own dark places and think very badly about herself. She had a melancholic disposition about her, just like Kyburz did. He’d bring her down and he wouldn’t even know what he’d be doing wrong.  
  
He also wanted her to settle down. He was worried about her, that was understandable, but Kyburz had this odd idea that Em would be great at the quiet family life. She really wouldn’t. She enjoyed being a mother that was for certain, but settling down wasn’t in Em’s mind set. Kyburz wanted the picturesque happy family life behind a white picket fence, where as Em wanted just a nice home and a good job. She wasn’t the stay at home type, she wanted, needed to always be doing something. The sad part was that Kyburz would think he was doing her a favour by being the only person working. Giving her time to relax. Em was not that person. She needed to be busy, doing something with her hands because that’s just how her mind worked.   
  
As friends they were fine. A friendship was different to a relationship, there were different emotions attached to it. You looked at your significant other differently to your friends and this was how Daniel knew that Kyburz and Em wouldn’t of worked. They’d be bad for each other, bringing each other down and it would probably lead Em to start drinking again. Em needed someone who’d look at the world with hope, with a different perspective of her own, but someone who would also give her space when she needed and knew when to back off. She also needed someone who could keep up with her and unfortunately, Kyburz was none of those things.   
  
Sometimes people just didn’t blend well together. It didn’t mean they didn’t work as friends, because yes, Kyburz and Em were brilliant friends, but they’d be awful as a relationship.   
  
Daniel still felt like Kyburz should tell her. Get it off his chest and come clean, at least then Em could let him down gently. Daniel had seen the way Kyburz looked at Em and he’d seen the way she’s looked at him… it wasn’t the same look. As sad as it was, it just wasn’t the same. She didn’t see him like that, she only saw Kyburz as a friend.   
  
He had a feeling that Kyburz was also aware of this. That he knew Em only saw and would only ever see him as a friend, but the uncertainty caused him to hope. If and when he got the chance to tell Em, he should take it, at least then he’d be able to move on and find the right girl for him.   
  
“Have you heard anything about the department store?”   
  
“No..” Daniel shook his head, grateful to be changing the subject.   
  
“Is your wife still mad at me?”  
  
Daniel mulled this over a moment. “A… little..” He nodded.   
  
“I should apologise to her.”  
  
“I… would wait a bit,” he said carefully, tapping at the table top. “Opal’s the.. fiery one out of the two of us… I wouldn’t advice going to talk to her just yet. Let her calm down. She’d probably slap you again,” he thought about it. “Or worse.”   
  
Kyburz looked a little startled. He nodded slowly in understanding, taking another sip from his drink. Daniel severed a few more customers, Opal was quietly singing into the microphone and when Kyburz caught her eye, they narrowed at him and he ducked his head a little. That woman was scary when she was mad, he wondered how Daniel had the guts to go talk to her all all.   
  
To pass the time a little while Daniel was serving drinks, Kyburz looked around the bar and then his eyes landed on one person he was, ironically, not expecting to see. Despite the fact the man owned the bar, because he also owned the drinks too.   
  
“Hey, Daniel,” he gestured for him to come closer and the other did. Kyburz pointed over at the man in question. “What’s he doing here?”  
  
Daniel looked over at the booth he was pointing at and at the man. Augustus Sinclair sat at the very back booth, staring into his drink, but it looked more like he’d zoned out. A cigarette lay forgotten in the ashtray next to him, the smoke spiralling to the ceiling as it went out.   
  
“Yeah, He’s been here a lot recently,” Daniel mumbled, looking back to Kyburz with a frown. “I think it’s getting to him. He orders some of the most alcoholic drinks we have.”   
  
Kyburz looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t think Sinclair had it in him to feel bad about anyone or anything.”   
  
Daniel shrugged. “It might be that… it could just be the way Rapture’s going. You get a mix of people come in here,” he explained looking around the bar. “You get those who don’t want to admit it, those who’ve given up, get the ones that think things will get better and the others who thought it never went bad. You see people from all walks of life when you work behind a bar.”   
  
“You people watch?”  
  
“People are interesting,” he shrugged. “People talk to me. They tell me things. I’ve heard so many different stories and they all had the same ending.”  
  
“That being?”   
  
Daniel glanced at him and shrugged. “Think about your story Kyburz… how’d you end it?”   
  
Kyburz laughed. “Wishing I’d never come here.”  
  
“And there you go.”   
  
“Wait really?”   
  
Daniel nodded. “Even the ones who don’t think anything’s wrong.. they miss the sunlight. Gotta be honest.. I miss it too,” he picked up his cloth to wipe the bar down again. “Not like I’m ever gonna see it again. Can’t even go to Arcadia now, that was the closest to sunlight we got.”  
  
“Why can’t you go to Arcadia?”  
  
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Daniel said, frowning a little. “That cult down there? They call themselves the Saturnine or something like that. A bunch of spliced up Houdini splicers, that’s why Ryan’s men can’t catch them. They’ve gotten worse. They used to be peaceful, but now? Well, now they’re claiming that Arcadia is theirs. They won’t let anyone in there now, not until Ryan’s security has tidied them up, but it means no one can go. A few people have tried, but I’m not bothering.”  
  
“Smart decision.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve been making more of those recently.”   
  
Daniel watched as Kyburz downed the rest of his drink, slamming it down and coughing a little from the alcohol. He still looked rough. Better than he had, but still not great. The Aussie sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he gestured that he was going to get going, but he’d be back tomorrow. Then Kyburz got his stuff and left. Daniel watched him leave with a frown on his face. He honestly felt sorry for Kyburz, the man wasn’t really coping well.   
  
Sighing to himself, Daniel continued to wipe the bar down, just to give himself something to do. Opal sang softly into the microphone and soon all he could hear was her voice, with the people around him being nothing more than background. He glanced at her as she sang, still so full of life despite what was happening to the city.   
  
They needed to get out of here. He couldn’t let this city destroy her or take away the life she had. They wanted to start a family, but Daniel was not going to do that here. It wasn’t safe, he wanted his children to be safe. He didn’t want to worry if he had a little girl and she’d be snatched up off the street. Daniel wanted his family safe, his wife and his sister in law. He wanted a nice house or apartment, maybe with a garden in the sunlight and the breeze so his kids could play safely.  
  
He made the decision there and then as Opal sang her song and offered him a smile and wink. He was going to get his family out of Rapture. Maybe the surface wouldn’t be perfect, but anywhere was better than what this city had become. He’d get them all out, Opal and Rosa. He’d get them out of Rapture and take them far away from here. Somewhere they’d be safe. He couldn’t voice these things out loud of course. Certainly not here. Because while no one was willing to admit it, they all knew the truth. Ryan watched everything, they wouldn’t be safe until they were all far away from here.

* * *

  
_Mary Kestral,_   
  
_What could happen?:_   
  
_Been so tired recently. It’s the show and dealing with John at the same time… it’s getting to me a little. I was speaking with Kelly today and she said I should try the latest tonic from Ryan Industries… ah Mothers little helper it’s called. Supposed to boost you, get rid of the tiredness and keep you awake, sorta like injecting caffeine into yourself. Kelly explained she uses it to keep herself going with work and… her more fruitful activities… I think.. I think I might give it a shot, what’s the worse that could happen?_


	12. Me and My Shadow

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_Glad she’s on my side:_   
  
_First rule of survival, never piss off a woman with a gun. Scratch that, never piss off Ms Em, period. Ain’t scared, just glad the ‘Angel of Death’ is on my side._

* * *

  
Another day of scavenging. Another day of running around the department store and finding supplies, while dodging splicers. Only this time, Frank had to keep an eye on a kid. Clayton to be exact.

Why was Clayton with them? Well, it turned out that the kid had been sneaking out by himself to gather more equipment for himself. Old shotgun shells and other things to make his specialised ammo, he’d been doing it all behind their backs. Using the air vents to sneak around the place. Sometimes his splicer body guard would be with him, other times he wouldn’t be and it had happened to be that particular time that Frank had found the kid. Cornered by splicer.   
  
The splicer hadn’t hurt Clayton, it was toying with him, one of the more sadistic types. Telling the kid everything it was going to do to him in great detail, a big old smile on its face, while Clayton coward away. The boy wasn’t crying, but he was petrified. Frank had an idea that the kid had been too scared to cry, could only stare at this splicer.   
  
Well, it had been a split decision. He’d yelled at the splicer to startle it, screamed a few words he never thought he would ever say and then shot it dead. He kicked its head in for good measure, he didn’t want it to suddenly spring back up, like a lot of them tended to do.   
  
Clayton had been stunned. Staring at him like he was some sort of hero. He’d taken the kid straight back to the base, carried him the whole way, despite the fact that Clayton really was too big to be carried now. So, after a very long lecture from both him and the boy’s mother. It was agreed that Clayton could come with them, when they were exploring areas they already had a relative control of.   
  
They’d gotten into some altercations with splicers and Clayton had used his crossbow, turned out it was sometimes more affective than their guns. Could drop the splicers into a deep sleep in a blink of an eye. Also the kid had gotten good at aiming, just like his damn mother, it must run in the family.  
  
That wasn’t the thing that concerned Frank. What had really worried him, was the thing he’d shouted at the splicer when he charged it. At the top of his lungs, with more emotion behind the words than anything he’d ever said before, he’d screamed _‘Get the hell away from my kid!’_ Almost breaking character. The words though. The damn words, they’d felt like the most honest words he’d ever said.  
  
He contemplated it, tried to tell himself it was because that’s what Atlas would’ve done, but he didn’t know why he was trying to lie to himself. He knew he cared about the kid, but this was a different thing entirely. He didn’t just care about the little brat, he saw him as his own. As his kid. His son.  
  
It didn’t sit well with Fontaine, but he couldn’t deny it, not anymore. Being Atlas hadn’t helped because it meant him and Clayton had become closer. Atlas was friendlier than he was and of course the boy was drawn to that. He spoke to Atlas, to him, about everything and anything. Spoke to him about Fontaine, so himself, spoke to him about his family and friends, about his mother. He even asked him about the surface, Frank had even sat down with him and looked through the books the boy had. The ones he’d given him and explained some of the things he knew. Pointed out the animals he recognised and found himself telling Clayton some of the funny stories that had happened to him in his life.   
  
The kid didn’t know those stories were about him, Reggie and Limey. He always kept it carefully hidden, framing them as a cousin and brother. It’d been weird to talk about those things, especially considering what happened to Reggie, but Clayton had listened. He’d laughed and told his own stories. Hell, the kid had even decided to teach Atlas the pickpocketing tricks. Fontaine had found it rather funny that Clayton was busy teaching him the tricks that he’d taught him to begin with.   
  
So, this was how they were here. Him, Clayton, O’Riley, Josh, Caleb and a man named Terrance. Wondering through to look at the school, since they figured there’d be food there at least.   
  
They were more relaxed, this part was safer than any of the other parts of the facility. There weren’t many splicers because it was too close to their area. They’d driven most of those away. Clayton was walking close to him, like he always did when he came out on raids with them.   
  
The school was brightly lit, warm browns and beige, with Art Deco designs coating the floor.   
  
Straight away, they moved to the kitchen and canteen area, but Clayton was taking in the school. The walls, the images, running his fingers along the wooden panels. At first, Fontaine didn’t know why the boy was doing this and then he remembered; Clayton had never been to school. His mother had homeschooled him, this place was a completely new experience for him.   
  
It didn’t surprise him when Clayton left the canteen to look at the main teaching area, opening the double glass doors, walking through. His eyes were wide and he read some of the things that were still written on the board, the children’s drawings and even the projector screen was still rolling. It was like a lesson that was permanently frozen in time.   
  
Around the room were cartoon images of the mascot for the school, Ryan the Lion, who fought against Peter the Parasite. Peter was shown to be a rat, a pest in other words. Over in one corner they were showing the children how to kill people, or how to kill parasites. Multiple tranquilliser bolts were stuck into the targets. When Clayton looked at the chalk boards, it simply had ‘Empathy’ written on it. Underneath, scribbled in childish hand writing were various answers; For weak people, is for the unfit, is for parasites, is stupid, not positive, not a value, drags you down and not a virtue. One of the answers was scribbled out, but Clayton couldn’t make it out.   
  
Shuddering and deciding that he didn’t want to meet the children that had written those answers ever, he turned to look at the other board. This one was dedicated simply to Communism. Again, underneath the word were the children’s various answers to the word; is a sham, outdated, a mistake, not good, delusion, hypocrite, a lie to people, invented by parasites, property theft, a stupid idea, is stealing and moochers.   
  
Clayton stumbled away from the boards looking horrified. The empathy one scared him more than the communism one. He wanted to get out of this school. He didn’t want to be here anymore, turning to run away, he instead ran into Atlas.   
  
“Whoa, whoa…” the man spoke, looking down at him. “Easy, what’s wrong?”   
  
Wordlessly, Clayton pointed at the boards. Atlas studied them a moment, a frown on his face. His eyes widened a little in surprise, before he looked down at Clayton.   
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m glad Mum didn’t send me to this school,” he whispered, looking down at his hands. “They’re teaching the children how to kill people too.”   
  
Atlas was silent a moment, it looked like the man wasn’t sure what to say. He knelt down to Clayton’s height, gently placing his hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “Listen to me. Okay, this is important. You understand?” Clayton nodded, staring back at him. Atlas nodded back, glancing at the board and sighing. “Look. Empathy… is a tricky one. They’re a little bit right with some of those answers-.”  
  
“Empathy doesn’t make you weak!” Clayton cried. “It’s important! It doesn’t drag you down!”  
  
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Atlas soothed, holding his hand up to silence him. “But you gotta know when ta’ have it and when not to. Especially now, lad. Look around ya’, it’d be easy to feel awful sorry fer them spliced up folk, but ya’ can’t afford to. You hesitate once, they’ll take advantage of that. You know that from experience when I saved you last. You hesitated because ya’ felt bad and that splicer took advantage of that. If I hadn’t been there… you wouldda’ been killed.”  
  
“But they were people once!”   
  
“They might’ve been, but ya’ can’t afford to feel bad for them. Empathy towards splicers is a weakness,” he told him, firmly. “You can’t afford to feel bad for them. You see a splicer, you shoot ‘em. If you don’t have any more knock out bolts, you use the real ones I gave ya’.”  
  
“I don’t wanna use those…”   
  
“This ain’t about what you want and don’t want to do!” Atlas snapped, clutching his shoulders and glaring at him slightly. “Those bastards will kill you. Do you understand that?! They’ll _kill_ you! You might not want to do it, but ya gonna have to! So if you run out of knock out bolts, you use the lethal ones and you make. The shot. Count! Do you understand?!”   
  
Clayton’s lip trembled a little and he shook his head desperately. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone!”   
  
Atlas closed his eyes sighing softly. He rubbed his shoulder gently, nodding his head. “I know, lad. I know…” he looked back at him, cupping his face in his hands. “It ain’t easy. I ain’t gonna sit here and lie to ya’ ‘bout that. It ain’t easy pullin’ that trigger, but right now, we ain’t got anythin’ easy. I don’t want you to do it, but we’re gettin’ to the point where ya’ might have to.”   
  
“I’m scared,” Clayton whispered, his hand came up to fiddle with the watch. “I’m scared, Atlas, I’m so scared…”   
  
Wordlessly, Atlas pulled him in to a hug and Clayton clung to him like a life line. Burying his head in his neck, gripping his shirt tightly as he cried a little. Atlas gently patted his back and pulled away from him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and wiping away his tears. “I’m scared too,” he whispered softly. “No one can blame you Clayton. You’re just a boy. You shouldn’t have to do these things… but I can’t loose you…” he held his face gently in his hands. “I can’t. Neither can your Ma. So I’m askin’ ya’, beggin’ ya’… if you have to take that shot? You will. Can you promise me, that?”   
  
Clayton reached up and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, nodding his head. “I promise…”   
  
Atlas smiled. “Good, I’m sorry I have to ask you somethin’ like that… but I can’t take any chances… ya like the son I never had. I can’t loose you.”   
  
Clayton smiled at him and Atlas got back to his feet, gently leading him towards the exit, his hand on his shoulder. The others looked ready to leave, walking back through the doors and then Caleb stopped and pointed at one of the shops that rested next to school. A grin on his face as he looked back at the other men.   
  
Cupid’s Arrow. The sign was still working, the moving pink light with a depiction of cupid holding his signature bow and arrow. When the arrow was straight, cupid’s face was happy, then the light changed and the arrow was drooping with a very distressed looking cupid. Of course, any adult got the joke. There’d been quite the commotion from some parents when they saw this shop next to their child’s school. However, in Rapture, there was no sensor, so no one did anything about. You were basically told to get over it or go somewhere else.   
  
“Why do we need to go in there?” Josh asked, looking confused.   
  
Caleb stared at him like he was an idiot. “Hello. Books!” He pointed. “Magazines. I have been stuck down here for _two months_ ,” he stressed. “I’m pretty certain this counts as an ‘essential item’, right Atlas?”  
  
“I think it is,” Terrance said, grinning widely.   
  
“Is it really, though?” Josh asked, frowning a little.   
  
“The hell’s wrong with you? Of course it is!” Caleb smacked Josh in the arm. “Come on, it’s just a quick little detour.”  
  
Atlas gave him a withering look, pointing at Clayton, who was staring at the shop with wide eyes.   
  
“It’ll be educational for him,” Terrance said, walking over to the shop, the door rose and he entered, with Caleb close behind him.   
  
Atlas sighed and nodded. They all needed to stick together after all, so they entered the store. Music was playing and Terrance was already picking up books and flicking through them. Caleb soon joined him in the search, flicking through the books.   
  
Atlas leaned on the counter, O’Riley had lifted Clayton up and sat him on the counter top next to Atlas and Josh simply stood in a corner looking very uncomfortable.   
  
“Hurry it up,” Atlas grumbled. “We ain’t got no reason to be here.”   
  
“He’s only saying that ‘cause he can get his leg over,” Terrance mumbled as he picked up another book.   
  
“The hell are you talking about?” Caleb snapped.   
  
“Him and Ms Em. C’mon, ya gotta know they’re a ‘thing’ now..”  
  
“When did _that_ happen?!”  
  
“Jesus, you’re dumb.”   
  
Caleb glared at him before looking over at Josh who was still standing awkwardly in a corner. The young man looked embarrassed and like he was going to spontaneously combust at any moment. Even Atlas and O’Riley were watching the man with a mixture of vague amusement and confusion.   
  
“Josh?” The man jumped and stared at him with his big doe eyes. He looked like a deer in headlights. Caleb gestured with the book he had in his hands. “C’mon man. Pick somethin’!”   
  
“I… don’t want to…”   
  
“What?”  
  
Josh shuffled uncomfortably. “I don’t want to pick anything. I’m fine.”  
  
Terrance stared at him, holding a book titled ‘mommy dearest’ which really left nothing to the imagination. “You’re not fine. C’mon pick something. You look like you could use a stress relief.”   
  
Caleb nodded in agreement as he picked up a book titled ‘Co-eds’   
  
Josh shook his head and tried to smile, but it came out strained. “Honestly.. it’s fine.”   
  
“What’s wrong with you? We’re all men here,” Terrance gestured, hooking a thumb at Clayton. “Even Clayton isn’t freaked out.”  
  
“Probably because Clayton doesn’t know where we are or what this is!”   
  
Clayton frowned at him. “Of course I do! It’s a sex shop! Those are pornographic books which depict sex with unrealistic expectations for both parties. They’re designed to be fantasy based so it can appeal to the buyers fantasies. So they’re never real, but that’s why it’s a sexual fantasy.”   
  
Atlas laughed, his shoulders shaking because he was trying to hold it in, but eventually it broke free. It sounded like the boy was just repeating something he’d heard. Probably what one of the women that used to work here had said, but it didn’t stop it from being funny. The men were staring at Clayton with their mouths agape. The nine year old shrugged his shoulders and stuck his tongue out at them.   
  
“How in the hell do you know that and what the hell do you mean, ‘unrealistic expectations’?!” Terrance demanded.   
  
“Well if you don’t already know, I can’t explain it,” the boy replied with a shrug and now he had both Atlas and O’Riley laughing. “I used to live in these air vents, doofus! Of course I know.”   
  
“No, no,” Caleb shook his head. “You _think_ you know, but you don’t.”   
  
“I think the women depicted in those books are far more bendy than they are in real life,” he paused a moment thinking. “Then again I did catch my Aunt Kelly once, she said they were playing leapfrog, but I knew they weren’t really,” he kicked his legs a little. “I’ve played leapfrog, you don’t play it naked.”   
  
Now it was O’Riley that was looking at him a little stunned. “You saw Kelly- you’ve read these books?!”   
  
“Well… there isn’t much reading involved, they’re picture books,” he shrugged. “I was only four so I didn’t really understand what was going on. I understood a bit later when I heard the women that used to work here talking. They got gifts from some of their customers and they’d always throw them away. Most of them were already married and had children,” he thought about it a moment. “A lot of them would make fun of their customers..”  
  
“Okay, kid,” Caleb interrupted him and made a zipping motion across his mouth. “Shut it. I don’t need you ruining this for me.”  
  
“Don’t you want to know the truth, though?”  
  
“For some things, yes. For this? No! No man ever does!”  
  
“Yeah.. you probably wouldn’t like it if you really knew..” Clayton teased with a grin. “You guys seem to take it so seriously.. the women always used to joke about it.”   
  
Caleb turned to Atlas with big eyes. “I beg of you, make him stop.”   
  
“You wanted to come into the shop,” Atlas shrugged a little. “You reap what ya’ sow..”  
  
“Ugh! Josh, please for the love of god, pick something!”   
  
“I don’t want to…”   
  
O’Riley rolled his eyes and walked over to the back of the place where more books were stored, while Terrance walked over to Clayton with his book open. Atlas rolled his eyes and face palmed mumbling a little under his breath while Terrance showed the kid an image.   
  
“Now tell me, what’s unrealistic about that, huh?”   
  
“Seriously? You gotta ask?”  
  
“Would ya quit showin’ him that,” Atlas snapped. “He’s a _kid_.”   
  
“He’s obviously seen worst- wait..” Terrance narrowed his eyes. “Did you see the peep shows?”   
  
Clayton grinned at him. “Completely for free!”   
  
Atlas was giving Terrance a flat look. “You do realise he was only four, so wouldn’t understand what was going on. He said it himself he didn’t! You can’t tell me ya’ jealous of a four year old!”  
  
“The little bastard got to see a peep show for free, yes I can be jealous!”   
  
“Peep show _s_! Plural!”   
  
Atlas reached round and placed his hand over Clayton’s mouth to stop the kid from talking, glaring at Terrance. “Let’s just leave. Ya’ got what you came fer.”   
  
“What about, Josh?” Caleb asked.   
  
Josh sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus how many times do I gotta say it?! I ain’t interested-.”   
  
O’Riley walked past him and slammed a magazine into his arms, the image on the front held a male sailor on the front and was titled ‘Below Decks’.  
  
Josh’s whole face flamed for a moment, before he quietly put the magazine away in his backpack, glancing at O’Riley with a raised eyebrow.   
  
“Um.. O’Riley.. how’d you know that I…?”   
  
“Lucky guess..” O’Riley mumbled as he leaned on the door frame.   
  
“Oh… well… um, thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
“There, ya got ya books,” Atlas pushed off the counter, Clayton close behind him. “Now let’s get goin’. We already spent too long down here.”   
  
Atlas, Clayton and O’Riley left the store, while Caleb and Terrance walked up to Josh who stared back at him for a moment. Josh frowned at them and crossed his arms, raising his eyebrow challengingly.   
  
“What?!” He snapped. “I don’t see how you can judge me, mister teacher and mister mommy kink,” he walked towards the exit.   
  
“So…. Ya got a thing for sailors?” Josh paused and looked back at Caleb who smirked at him. “You’re the uniform type aren’t ya?”   
  
“You’re not freaked by the fact..”  
  
“What?” Caleb laughed, walking over and wrapping his arm around his shoulder, leading him towards the exit, Terrance close behind him. “You’re my best mate down here. I don’t give a damn who ya’ screw. Jesus, Josh. Chill out. It’s Rapture, we don’t care about stupid things like that. Everyone can be who they are down here.”  
  
“So long as it’s nothing against Ryan.”  
  
“Ha! That won’t last long. Just you wait! Atlas is gonna take us all back to the top,” he rose his hand in the air with a grin. “We’ll sink Andrew Ryan and then we’ll be the big guys on top! Everything is gonna be just fine!”

* * *

  
“Opal, Daniel,” Kelly smiled a little as she recognised her friends who’d come up to the restaurant she worked at . “It’s so good to see you. Here, let me get you a table,” she lead them over to one of the corner booths in the Watched Clock, placing the menus down in front of them. She pulled out her note pad and pencil. “Can I get you something to drink? Cup of coffee?”  
  
“Yes, please, Honey,” Opal smiled softly at her. “How are you holding up, hun?”   
  
“As well as I can without going insane,” Kelly smiled brightly at her, even though her eyes screamed how irritated she actually was about working as a waitress. “I swear if I hear one more person complain…”   
  
Opal smiled sympathetically, while Daniel looked over the menu. “I’m sorry you gotta put up with that.”  
  
“Well, it’s either I don’t put up with it and let it drive me crazy or…” she sighed, turning to Daniel. “Coffee too, Daniel?”   
  
“If you could, Kelly, that’d be lovely,” he gave her a sympathetic smile of his own. “We thought we’d come down and see you this time. Instead of you always heading to the bar.”   
  
“Hm. You say that like you think me going to a bar is a chore,” Kelly said, writing down their drinks orders. “I can assure you after pulling double shifts… it isn’t,” she plastered on the smile she had to wear as a waitress and nodded to them both. “I’ll just go and get those coffees ready. You think about what you want to order.”  
  
“Anything you’d recommend?”   
  
“Nope!”   
  
Opal laughed softly as Kelly made her way over to the back of the counter, quickly making some coffee for them both. She didn’t need to ask what type of coffee they had since she knew the order by heart. It was nice to see them both, it was times like this when she really missed Em. Her best friend would’ve been able to say just the right thing, probably something incredibly blunt and not very tactful. That was just how Em was.   
  
Kelly wondered how she was doing in the makeshift prison. Both her and little Clayton, were they okay? Were they still alive?   
  
Shaking her head, she lightly scolded herself, of course Em would still be alive. That woman was tough on a good day and damn near indestructible on a bad. It still didn’t stop Kelly from being worried, though. What if something did happen? She’d never know, she’d never find out if her friend was okay and if her son was still alive.  
  
Kelly frowned slightly. The little makeshift family they’d made together was falling apart and being split. Arguments, fights and even just members disappearing from their little family entirely. Kelly hadn’t heard a word or seen Cammie and Sarah in months. Last she’d heard they were still in Dionysus Park, but really they could be anywhere by now. Then there was Diane, she’d been slowly cutting herself off from them, trying desperately to appeal to the higher class that Ryan spent his time with. Rosa was always busy in medical since the staff had gone down drastically. Then of course, Em, Clayton and O’Riley were all stuck in the department store. Not to mention that Daniel and Kyburz had that huge fight. It was a mess.   
  
She walked back to them and placed the coffees down on the table, taking out her notepad and pencil again. “Anything I can get you? Are you ready to order?”   
  
“I’ll just have soup of the day,” Opal said, handing her menu back to Kelly.   
  
“I’ll have the burger, please,” Daniel said, also handing his menu back. “I haven’t had one in ages.”  
  
“They are pretty decent,” Kelly nodded, offering a smile. “Have you guys heard anything about the department store? Anything about Em?”   
  
Opal shook her head. “No. Nothing. You?”  
  
“Not a peep.”  
  
“Yeah, Kyburz asked me too,” Daniel sighed. “We’ve patched things up now. I just… I can’t believe she’s been stuck down there for two months. Two months, both her and Clayton.”   
  
“Don’t forget, O’Riley.”   
  
“Sorry, Kelly,” he winced. “I don’t always, I didn’t know him all that well.”  
  
“It’s okay,” she looked out the window and sighed softly, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “You’ve heard about the missing girls right?”  
  
“Yeah…” Opal shuddered. “Those poor girls.. their poor mothers and families,” she frowned at the table top. “I’ve heard Ryan isn’t doing much about it.”  
  
“Well..” Kelly knelt down, leaning in to whisper. “I’ve heard that it’s him doing it.”  
  
“What?!”   
  
“Yeah, I know!” Kelly stood up, brushing down her skirt. “Crazy right?” She glanced over at the counter. “I better go and put these orders through. I’m still on the clock after all. I’ll bring them over when they’re ready.”   
  
“Okay…” Opal smiled softly as she watched Kelly leave, she turned to her husband who was staring out the counter top looking lost in thought. “Honey are you okay?”  
  
Daniel blinked coming to himself and smiled at her. “Of course. Just thinking, sorry. Got lost in thought…”   
  
“Anything I can help with?”   
  
He paused before shaking his head, his smile seeming to be a little tighter than usual. “No. No, no, it’s okay. Honestly, it’s nothing.”   
  
She wasn’t convinced, but she nodded along, reaching across the table to take his hand. Daniel’s smile got a little more relaxed now and he gently took her hand in his own, squeezing it a little. A simple gesture of reassurance. Reassurance for whom and for what, Opal wasn’t entirely sure, but she had the feeling Daniel was planning something. He’d been a bit skittish recently, but whatever it was, she was certain, positive, that it would be for the best.

* * *

  
_Alfred Galileo,_   
  
_He thinks he can sink us:_   
  
_So Andrew Ryan thinks he can sink us? To forget us? He pushed us away, a circus in a department store to entertain those around and then plasmids came and everything change. Our spectacles had to grow more daring to seem impressive and with the use of tonics it worked…  
  
He thinks he can sink us, leave us to rot… he’s very wrong. Just you wait… Andrew Ryan… the circus is in town!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty whilst I do have my grievances with Burial At Sea, I did enjoy the new environments and the department store, but Jesus Christ that Academy was probably the most terrifying thing in the game. From a psychological standpoint, they were just teaching their children how to be psychopaths... no empathy, not sharing, how to kill a 'parasite'. It was the one place that really stuck with me and freaked me out. 
> 
> That and the sex shop, because seriously? Peeping Tom? THAT'S A THING?! I'd be lining all my walls with lead. 
> 
> Anyhoo... hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your support is what keeps me going with this and it's always lovely to hear from you! Hope you enjoyed the moment of softness with Clayton and Fontaine. I love their relationship, even though it really isn't a healthy one, it's interesting to write.


	13. Send In the Clowns

_Alfred Galileo,_   
  
_Visitors:_   
  
_We have some new visitors.. ohhh this is going to be fun! That… revolutionary Atlas and his little band… they look so sad, perhaps a circus will cheer them up!_

* * *

Three months. God had it really been that long, Em was finding it harder and harder to keep up and keep track. Down in the department store, the lights didn’t dim, they either were permanently on or permanently off. Sometimes they’d be flicking, but you couldn’t tell what time of day it was supposed to be. The only thing any of them had to go off were their watches and gradually, keeping track of time became the last thing on their minds.  
  
Of course they still had the radios which meant that occasionally they would get a signal. Other than that, there wasn’t much that went on. Sometimes the announcements would sound over the intercom system, even music, but usually all that did was put everyone on edge. It would be harder to listen out for splicers and they’d lost a few people due to them being unable to hear them.   
  
Currently, the group that consisted of herself, Caleb, Josh, Peterson and a new member of their group, Jane were walking through the main building of the department store. They’d found out the trams still worked, so decided to use them and investigate the rest of the buildings.   
  
Atlas had not been happy with Em volunteering to lead the group, but she argued that she knew the department store better than anyone and he had reluctantly agreed. So here she was, leading a scavenger hunt, guns trained and at the ready. Atlas had even given her a shortwave radio, telling her to call them if they ran into any trouble they couldn’t handle. She’d assured him that she would, before leaving and giving him a gentle kiss. She’d hugged Clayton who offered to lend her Gabriel, but Em declined. Clayton needed Gabriel to protect him, Em herself had gotten very good at dealing with splicers. Maybe too good.   
  
She had a new name now. She was the Angel of Death now days. Mostly because she could build bombs and make upgrades to their guns when she found the right parts. She’d taken the name in her stride, even engraved a symbol on the side of her rifle that she’d upgraded several times. Now on the side of her gun was a small engraved image of a skull with angel wings either side of it, an AD etched into the skull’s forehead.   
  
Em recalled the audio diary she’d made when she finally accepted that this was who she was now. That there was no going back, she’d killed too many splicers, became too good at it. She hated the fact that she seemed to be good at killing and sometimes in rather inventive ways. If she’d lost her gun in a scuffle she had to adapt and adapt she did. Picking up anything she could use, she even beat a splicer to death with a baseball bat one time.   
  
Over their search they’d been able to pick up more guns and Em was slowly gaining a small collection. One each of these guns she would engrave her little symbol, she even did the same to the bombs she made. It had become her insignia down here, it would probably remain her insignia when they got back to the rest of Rapture.   
  
_“Hey, Mary, why so down in the mouth?”_  
  
 _“I don’t know, John. I guess I just don’t know how I feel about those Little Sisters.”_  
  
 _“The Little Sisters? Gee, don’t you know they’re the glue that holds Rapture together?”_  
  
 _“Really?”_

 _“You betcha! Ryan Industries has seen to it that they’re bred to be as happy as clams while they do the work that keeps us safe from the bandits and terrorists. We all need ADAM, and we all need the Little Sisters.”_   
  
Em shuddered a little at the words, glancing back at her team she could see they all looked a little uncomfortable about everything too.   
  
The Little Sisters.. Jesus, Em couldn’t believe that Fontaine had made those things and she couldn’t believe that Ryan had kept it going. Hell, Ryan seemed to be getting worse than Fontaine, he didn’t treat those girls like they were children. From what she’d heard they were even sending some of the children out to harvest ADAM from corpses. There had been a special type of Big Daddy developed for it, the Alpha Series, to be paired with a single Little Sister and sent out to gather ADAM from the dead bodies. Mostly they’d be sent down to the poorer parts of Rapture, where the bodies were simply left to rot because no one could afford to have them removed.   
  
From the rumours they’d heard, Suchong was trying to get all Big Daddies compatible with this task of guarding the Little Sisters, but it wasn’t going too well. Apparently he was having trouble, that was just rumours they’d heard from Limey who’d been keeping close attention to what was going on for them.   
  
They pushed open a door and walked through, until Em held her hand up, signalling them to stop. They all froze, Caleb and Josh gently closing the doors behind them, raising their guns up like everyone else.   
  
She listened carefully, it had been awfully quiet and she didn’t like it. They’d only spotted a few splicers on their way down here and they’d all been easy to deal with. She didn’t like it.   
  
Em glanced up at the red neon sign that sat above another set of double doors, its lights flicking on and off while it sat side ways. Clearly on the way down, the sign had slipped and broken off, now it hung onto the wall and just barely.   
  
The broken lights flickered, but you could still read the words ‘Rapture Circus’ that had once been lit up with glowing red neon. Glancing at the floor of the room they were in, she saw popcorn was knocked over, the doors they were standing opposite of were brightly coloured with a diamond pattern.   
  
Slowly she began walking to it, her group closely followed behind her and she gently pushed the door open. Peeking inside, Em gestured for them to spread out either side of her, while she went straight ahead.   
  
They fanned out, guns raised and ready, glancing around at the state the place had been left in.   
  
Popcorn and various other carnival food lay scatted around the place, either on the floor or lying across the table tops. The souvenirs had toppled on their shelves, some were broken, others had only been partially damaged. The red curtains were torn and ripped, casting long dark shadows across the floor. Vaguely they could hear the speakers replaying the classic circus music, some of the bright and colourful lights above them flickered on and off.   
  
As they continued to make their way through the carnage, they noticed red stains on the floor, followed by a few drag marks. It didn’t take a genius to work out what might have happened.   
  
They made their way into the big top and froze slightly when they saw a few bodies dotted around in the seats. Their necks had been slit, a few of them had been set on fire or frozen. The ice thrower that Em had seen the only time she’d been to this circus crossed her mind. Em swallowed uneasily, tightening her hold on her gun, eyes darting around. The image of the woman shattering to pieces briefly flashed in her mind, but she desperately ignored it. She couldn’t afford to loose her cool, not right now.   
  
Grimacing, they made their way backstage, this area was even more open up than the main stage. They could see the various homes and offices that the circus dwellers had used. Scattered around the huge open area were various pieces of circus equipment, even a few carnival games that looked like they’d been used.  
  
She cursed when Caleb whistled them, beckoning the rest of them over to a pair of dead bodies. When she got closer she could see that they had once been the conjoined twins. They weren’t joined anymore. That wasn’t what had killed them, they were smartly dressed while they were separate. Guess with the ADAM they’d been able to. Judging by the amount of blood surrounding them, it had been the fall that had killed them.   
  
“Okay…” she mumbled. “Spread out… keep your wits about you. We find some things we can use and then we leave. I don’t want to know what these lunatics are up to.”  
  
There were muttered agreements, the group splitting up with their guns ready. Though, Caleb and Josh seemed to stick in the same vicinity as each other.   
  
Em opened one of the doors, finding it to be a small office. It wasn’t too badly damaged, there was money scattered around, so probably this had been the place where accounting had been done. On the table, next to the money that she was hastily picking up, was an audio diary.

Out of curiosity, Em picked it up, resting it on her lap as she hit play. Alfred Galileo, the circus owner and ringmaster’s voice came through the speakers. He sounded okay, sane at least as he spoke, but judging by what he was talking about, this audio diary had been recorded very early on.   
  
_“When Mister Ryan personally invited my circus down here… I was thrilled! We are traveling performers but for us to capture the interest of one such as he!There is a problem though… one I did not foresee… A circus is death defying! A circus is unbelievable! The circus’s job is to leave it’s audience awestruck! Well… how can we do that when we’re living in a place as unbelievable as Rapture? Something has to change… something… I’m not sure what but… something has to bring this circus back to life and… oh I’ll know it when I see it.”_   
  
Em frowned a little, placing the audio diary back down. It was weird to hear someone else’s struggles. She’d been so focussed on her own that she’d rather forgotten about anyone else. They hadn’t mattered to her, why should they? Em’s only concern had been looking after number one, herself. Then she’d made friends and they were also something she became concerned about and then she’d found Clayton.   
  
As time had gone on she’d opened up more, became more welcoming of other people and understanding. Allowing herself to actually care about other people, even those she didn’t know. She couldn’t describe how sorry she felt for the poor who were living in Fontaine’s poorhouses. Sometimes she’d go down and fix up the place without having to be asked. Occasionally she’d go and check on them, even when she didn’t need to.   
  
Walking back into the main hall, she continued her exploring, opening doors and looking inside, some of them were storage rooms, filled with food, others were more officers. When she opened a door next to the stairs case that lead up to the three floors above them, she discovered that it had once stored Plasmids, Eve Hypos and Tonics. A few of the empty cases and bottles lay strewn across the shelves and floor, sitting in the middle of the mess was another diary.   
  
Again, Em found herself picking it up, brushing off some of the broken glass that rested on it. She hit play once again and once again Alfred’s voice came through the speakers, sounding a lot happier than he had before.  
  
 _“I knew it would happen, I knew it would! Plasmids are the answer! Sure any old circus can have a knife thrower but what about an ice thrower? I’ve just given Oliver the winter blast plasmid and he is loving it! A little cold at first but he got used to it in the end. Our gymnasts are going for the tonics, improving their strength and speed, soon we will become the greatest circus to ever live! I haven’t taken any myself yet but… oh well, I just want the right one. The right plasmid. I’ll wait. I’ll bide my time. I’m a patient man after all.”_   
  
Well, that hadn’t worked out too well for them if the mess outside was anything to by. Maybe Alfred was dead by now, if there hadn’t been a Plasmid he liked.   
  
Eventually she found herself upstairs, on the second floor, mostly just makeshift bedrooms, a few areas had been turned into little workshops to fix the props. A dead body was strewn across the table, a hammer was still resting neatly in the back of his head and Em gagged a little, stumbling from the door. An audio diary sat by the body and cautiously she picked it up, hitting play. Again it was Alfred.  
  
 _“This teleporting plasmid is a work of genius! In using it I can teleport myself to wherever I am needed. I become part of the act. This circus is going to be something special I can just feel it.”_   
  
Okay, so he had found a Plasmid he liked. She wondered if he got it before or after the even with LaLorna. If it was after then he might still be kicking.   
  
Glancing at the body, she placed the diary down and reached for her radio at her hip.   
  
“Atlas? You there?”  
  
“Can hear ya loud and clear, luv. What’s wrong?”  
  
“We’ve found the old circus,” she glanced at the body and grimaced. “It’s like a circus for the macabre. There’s bodies all over the place and… I think some of the performers are still kicking around. Haven’t seen any yet,” she made her way out of the room, seeing Caleb and Josh now walking over to her. “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”   
  
“You need to head back, luv?”  
  
“We still have two other levels to look at,” she said, walking towards the next flight of stairs, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to spook the others too much. There was a storage room for Plasmids and Tonics, it was completely empty. Just some broken bottles and used Eve Hypos left.”   
  
Atlas was silent for a moment before his voice came through. “Right, I’m comin’ with another group of men.”  
  
“What? No you don’t have to, I can handle it.”   
  
“I’m sure you can, it’s not just you I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s the ones you got with ya’, Peterson especially. He’s jumpy and twitchy as hell. We’ll be over soon. Until then, I’m sure my Angel or Death can set up some sort of perimeter.”  
  
Em glanced down at a few of the proximity mines she’d taken with her, she knew that Jane had a few trap bolts on her too. “I’ll lay some mines out and have Jane use a few of her trap bolts. There’s only one last level we haven’t checked yet. I’ll wait for you to get here.”  
  
“Alright. We’ll be with you shortly, just makin’ our way to the tram now. I’ll see ya’ in a bit, darlin’.”   
  
“Okay.. Atlas, be careful.”   
  
He chuckled lightly. “Always am. But same to you, keep ya’ wits ‘bout ya’. Can’t loose you luv’, only thing keepin’ me sane down here, I swear.”   
  
Em laughed. “I thought I made you stress?”   
  
“Well, ya’ do that too, luv’, not gonna lie. I suppose though, when you love someone, ya love all of them.”   
  
“Yeah… you do,” she smiled softly. “I’ll get to work on that perimeter, see you soon.”   
  
“See you soon luv’, you be careful.”  
  
“Always.”   
  
The line fell dead and she sighed, eyes closed with a happy smile on her face. She’d never been the dreamy, drooling over a guy type, not even with Atlas. He was just perfect for her. Didn’t try to smother her, worried of course, but had confidence in her abilities. Didn’t want her to change into something she wasn’t, didn’t want to keep her locked away or never let her head out. He’d only not liked this plan because he wasn’t going with them. Told her he liked being with there when she went out because at least he knew for certain that was okay, but she pointed out that Atlas had gone out by himself without her. He’d caved after that, but did remind her he was still going to worry.   
  
Of course he was going to worry, why wouldn’t he? If he didn’t worry at all she’d be breaking up straight away. It wasn’t the worrying that bothered her, that was just concern and you’d expect that in any relationship. It was the over the top worrying. The kind that meant insisting on keeping her in one place so she’d never get hurt, she wasn’t that kind of person. She certainly wasn’t the white picket fence type of woman.   
  
Atlas didn’t do that. He respected her wishes and they actually had conversations if one of them was concerned and not try to stop the other from doing something. He complimented her in both her looks and work. He never held her back and instead helped her. Taught her how use different guns and how to load them, she in turn taught him how to hack the vending machines and other mechanical devices.  
  
Even though the department store was hell on earth, she’d managed to find a moment of happiness and hopefully, when all this was over, they’d still be together. She’d have her little family, helping each other and they’d probably have a home in Olympus Heights. She might even be able to get Clayton a pet, she’d be working in Hephestus again and Atlas would organise the people and undo everything Ryan had done. They’d be able to set everything wrong with Rapture to right.   
  
With that in mind, she quickly set about putting up a perimeter around the areas they’d explored. Setting a mine on the stair case leading to the top floor just in case any army of splicers were hiding up there. She had Jane set up a few trap bolts on a few of the entrances from bigger rooms along the ceiling incase there were any spider splicers.   
  
Atlas arrived safely with five others; Terrance, Oswald, Annabelle, Susie and Fredrick. They all split off into groups, Atlas going with Em as they continued with their exploration of the higher floors. Oswald went with Terrance, Caleb with Josh still, Susie and Jane went together and Finally Peterson, Annabelle and Fredrick were the final group.   
  
“This place is a mess,” Em said, checking her rifle again just to be sure it was loaded. “I remember when I came here once. The first and last time.”   
  
“First and last eh? Show really that bad, luv’?”  
  
“No. They were really good performers…” she frowned a little. “But their resident ‘ice thrower’ froze the person he was meant to be throwing the ice around. He froze her solid… she shattered into thousand of little pieces,” She shuddered a little. It wasn’t something she liked to think about. “It was awful. Clayton saw it… it was birthday.”   
  
Atlas’s face softened. “I’m sorry he had to see that, darlin’,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m sorry he has to see any of this.”  
  
“Me too,” she nodded her head in agreement, pushing the door open and finding a bedroom, this one looked like it belonged to Alfred at one point in time. Scribbled on the wall multiple times and in various degrees of spelling, were the words ‘come to the circus’ over and over again.   
  
Atlas and Em stared at it for a long time, before glancing at each other, holding similar expressions of worry. This certainly wasn’t a good sign, especially if Alfred was still around. Hell, if any of them were still around it wasn’t a good sign. What the hell was happening here. The bodies down in the front had also freaked Em out badly. Where they fresh? Where they old? She couldn’t tell. She’d not wanted to get too close to them.   
  
They began searching the room, Atlas picking up another diary and waving it for Em to see.   
  
“Hit play,” she said softly. “I found three others. I’ve been listening to them.” He looked back into the closet where he’d found this one and picked it up. “There’s another one here too,” he set the first one down on the table and hit play.   
  
_“No, no, no! Teleport has been discontinued! Ryan has taken it off the shelves, no longer permitted! It’s not even on the black market now Fontaine is in the ground! I need it, doesn’t he understand that? I need it!”_   
  
“That was Alfred again,” Em mumbled, frowning a little. “He sounds like he started to loose it. That’s recently too, he’s talking about Fontaine…”  
  
“Look here,” Atlas said, lifting up some of the clothes to find several empty bottles of Plasmids and Tonics with a few used Eve Hypos. “Looks like we got a teleport Plasmid and…. Plenty of bottles of Incinerate. Level three incinerate too.”  
  
“Wonderful…” she frowned. “So we have a teleporting mad man that may or may not be here with us.”   
  
“Hm,” Atlas lifted up the next diary, placing it on the table next to the original one and hit play. Unsurprisingly Alfred’s voice came through the speakers again.   
  
_“So Andrew Ryan thinks he can sink us? To forget us? He pushed us away, a circus in a department store to entertain those around and then plasmids came and everything change. Our spectacles had to grow more daring to seem impressive and with the use of tonics it worked… He thinks he can sink us, leave us to rot… he’s very wrong. Just you wait… Andrew Ryan… the circus is in town!”_  
  
“Well…” Atlas mumbled. “I suppose that answers that question,” he said, taking out his short wave radio. “Alright, listen up all of you. The man who used to run this joint is still here. Keep ya eyes open, could be trouble.”  
  
“O-okay, Atlas. We’ll keep our eyes- wait what was that? F-Fredrick? Annabelle? Did you see tha- guys!?”  
  
“Peterson, what’s happening?” Atlas asked, storming out of the room, quickly followed by Em so they could look over the edge that gave you a view of the open area underneath.   
  
They could see Josh and Caleb glancing around, looking concerned. Caleb looked up at Atlas and Em, shrugging slightly. They couldn’t see Peterson anywhere or anyone that had been part of his group. There was no way they’d just disappeared and the splicers couldn’t take down anyone silent, Alfred certainly couldn’t, he had incinerate not…   
  
The ice thrower suddenly popped up in her mind and she turned to Atlas looking pale.   
  
“What about the ice thrower? What if he’s still around? He could freeze someone and they’d never get a chance to scream.” Atlas quickly turned back to the radio, eyes wide. “Peterson! Peterson, has the temperature dropped where you are, lad?!”  
  
“I- I don’t know… I don’t know… oh god…”  
  
“Peterson, listen to me,” Atlas said, trying to sound calm. “You need to head back the way you came, you understand?”   
  
“Help- someone help!”   
  
Em jumped startled by her own radio suddenly springing to life. She snatched it up, hearing Susie’s panicked cries coming through the speaker. A few gun shots could also be heard as well as the telltale sound of splicers.   
  
“Susie?! Susie, what’s happening?!”  
  
“They- they’re everywhere! They got Jane! They-!”  
  
Whatever she had been about to say was abruptly cut of by her screaming and then the screaming died and Em could only hear a choked gargling sound. Then the line went dead.   
  
“Peterson,” Atlas quickly spoke into the radio. “You need to head back, do you understand me?! We have to fall back!”   
  
“I can’t get back! I can’t get back! There’s a wall! There’s an ice wall! Oh god, oh god, help! Someone hel-!!”   
  
The line went dead. There wasn’t even the sound of static from a broken radio. It was just dead and gone.   
  
The silence stretched on. No one dared say a word or speak for a moment. Em’s gun was already raised, pointing in the direction of the stairs just in case, but she kept her gaze flickering up to the ceiling. There had been acrobats here and if they were that high on Plasmids and Tonics, there’s not telling what they could do. There was no telling what they couldn’t do for that matter. Just how far had they gone with the splicing as a whole?   
  
There was only one final room at the end of this particular row. Above the door read the office of Alfred Galileo, suddenly an idea came to her head. She turned to Atlas and nudged him slightly.   
  
“The office,” she said, pointing at it. “There could be cameras in there. We might be able to see what’s going on.”  
  
“Good idea, luv’,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he passed, she was close behind him, covering him as he dealt with the door. His pistol out and ready as he slowly opened it.   
  
Atlas poked his head inside, but there was nothing to be seen. Just a few open draws, no enemies or splicers. They ventured inside, wandering to the back in case there were screens hidden and there had been. They were smashed to pieces, broken and discarded. Some even had ice growing around them.   
  
“So much for that,” Atlas sighed. “It was a good idea, luv’,” he turned to Em and found her picking up to Audio Diaries that had been hidden away in a draw. She placed them down on the table and hit play on the first one.   
  
_“Damn it all! My conjoined twins just got themselves separated! ‘Now, thanks to ADAM we can live our lives apart’, I don’t give a damn how you want to live your lives! What am I supposed to do when one of my top acts splits, literally?!”_  
  
“Well I imagine that was never a scenario he thought would happen,” Atlas commented, staring down at the diary. “Doesn’t explain why them twins were dead, however.”  
  
“This might,” Em said, holding up the second audio diary and tapping at the title that simply read ‘let go’, before she placed it on the desk too and hit play.   
  
_“Well… sadly the twins are no longer with us… I, er, had to let them go. They made quite a mess when they hit the floor.”_   
  
The two of them stood in silence. Emilie wasn’t too sure what to make of that. Alfred had pushed two of his performers over the edge and killed them. All because they didn’t want to be treated badly or be stuck together any more.   
  
A scream outside made them both jump, but Em was quick to push the door to the office open, Atlas right behind her, until he grabbed her shirt and quickly yanked her back inside. A ball of flame flew past her, she could feel the heat of the projectile as it flew past her. It struck the wall at the end, scorching it and blackening the wall underneath it.   
  
She gulped, swallowing down a yell, before giving Atlas a grateful look. He smiled back in return, before both of their attentions was directed towards the door and the fact they could hear laughing coming outside. Soon gunshots and more screams filled the air. A few yells and curses here and there.  
  
Cautiously they both peaked out of the office, spotting what they assumed was Alfred at the other end of the walkway they were on. The old ring master was still dressed in his costume, top hat too, but his long read coat was tattered and torn. One of the sleeves had been ripped away from the shoulder and showed the skin of his arm, from the shoulder to the elbow. He held his hands out and soon produced two flames, which soon became two balls of fire.  
  
“Come one, come all!” He cried, throwing the fireballs at the pair of them. Atlas and Em both dived backwards, the fireballs hitting the doorframe and burning it. Alfred was outside laughing loudly. “Step right up and take your seats, the show’s about to begin!”   
  
Suddenly he appeared in front of them. Atlas and Em both shot at him and he quickly teleported away, disappearing in a cloud of red smoke and little pieces of black that looked like fluttering leaves.   
  
“Well, I guess teleport is workin’ fer him just fine!” Atlas snarled, quickly charging outside despite Em’s yell about not running head long into danger. He didn’t listen.   
  
Angrily, she rolled her, eyes quickly chasing after him, muttering to herself. “Jævla menn, hører de aldri?!”   
  
She didn’t have to run far, Atlas had stopped abruptly, staring with wide eyes at the scene before him and Em was right behind him mirroring his expression.   
  
Alfred stood at the end of the walkway, grinning manically at them, but that wasn’t the part that made them pause. What had made them stop was the group of what had once been clowns and acrobats that now accompanied them. If the splicers looked bad usually with their rotting faces, they looked infinitely worse with clown make up on. It was running down their faces due to the various leaks that had sprung up in the department store. Blood was coating their costumes, a few of the feathers had been torn and ripped from their costumes. A few of them were stained with blood and stuck together because of it.   
  
“Looks like we have two volunteers from the audience!” Alfred cried, the grin stretching even more on his face. “Let’s give ‘em a big hand, folks!”   
  
The splicers that surrounded him all began clapping at the same time, a few of them were whooping and jumping up and down. All smiling with horrid and grotesque painted smiles that had drool dripping from their lips. Some even had blood dripping down their chin from their bleeding gums.   
  
“My they look a little nervous,” Alfred went on, taking a few steps forward. “There’s no need to be so scared… we just want you to enjoy the show,” he took out another audio diary, placing it on the floor before sliding it across to them. It stopped at Atlas’s feet, the tape had began to run the moment it did and Alfred’s voice once more came through the speaker.   
  
_“We have some new visitors.. ohhh this is going to be fun! That… revolutionary Atlas and his little band… they look so sad, perhaps a circus will cheer them up!”_   
  
The tape died down to silence, Em quickly got her gun ready, Atlas was already pointing his pistol at them, but it looked like he was sorely wishing he had a bigger gun. This many splicers she wished he had a bigger gun too.   
  
“You see?” Alfred went on. “We only want to cheer you up, that’s the whole point of a circus after all!”   
  
Another yell sounded from below and Em glanced over to see that their group had managed to get back together, but where being cornered by more splicers. The one leading the insane circus splicers was the knife thrower himself. He was still dressed in his costume, but now his skin was completely blue, his hair had gone completely white and pieces of ice were growing out of his head, shoulders and elbows. His hands had white glowing cold air sounding them at all times and a few ice crystals flickered when they caught the light.   
  
On the floor next to them all was Terrance, or at least half of him was. The other half was his legs, still standing and frozen solid, while the part on the floor was bleeding profusely, staining the floor. As the frosty splicer got closer to them, the moment her worked past Terrance’s body, the blood instantly started to freeze. The air around the frosty splicer would get just a little easier to see as it lowered the temperature surrounding it.   
  
Em looked back at Alfred who laughed loudly, clapping his hands and looking too excited for her liking. His eyes suddenly glowed with the power of incinerate, his fingertips became blackened before slowly turning into orange and red hot molten looking pieces of metal. The power of the plasmid slowly creeped its way down his hand and arm, singeing some of the clothing he wore due to the heat. His arm and hand now more resembled molten rock than actual human skin.   
  
“They don’t look quite ready, do they look ready to you?” Alfred asked and the splicers all shook their heads. “No, I don’t think they do either… capture them! Alive! We have to prepare them for their act!”   
  
The splicers dived towards them, Em and Atlas ran backwards, shooting at them as they went. They were both able to hit a few of them and some even got electrocuted from the hidden trap bolts on the ceiling, but there were far too many. In a last ditch attempt for safety, Atlas and Em ran into the office, slamming the door and trying desperately to hold it. The splicers kept pounding on it outside and it didn’t take long for them to bring the door down and almost crush Atlas and herself under it. They’d luckily been able to move out of the way in time, but this meant they lost precious moments when they tried to get back to their feet.   
  
The clown and acrobat splicers pounced, climbing on top of them and snatching the guns out of their hands, tossing them away. Em herself bit and clawed at them, kicking her legs out and managing to strike one of them across the face, before her leg was abruptly pinned down by another splicer. Her eyes flickered over to Atlas and she could just about make him out as he kicked and yelled at them all. Throwing death threats here and there as well as his fists. Soon though, they pinned him to the floor and he looked over at her, catching her eye.   
  
Alfred stepped into the room, stepping over the many splicers that were crowded inside and holding them down. He stood over Atlas a moment, smiling to himself while the man snarled back at him. The ring master lifted his booted foot and stamped on Atlas’s face two times, knocking him out cold. Em swore she even heard a crunch, which was probably his nose being broken. She screamed at the once ringmaster and yelled her own line of threats, he only looked at her the same way he’d looked at Atlas. Em knew what was coming before he’d even raised his booted foot.   
  
She squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the impact. When nothing came she opened her eyes, only to see Alfred smile and wave at her, before his boot came down on her face and the world faded to darkness.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Angel of Death:_   
  
_They’ve started to call me the Angel of Death… Jesus it’s like no one can stick with my actual name! Fontaine called me spitfire, Cohen called me a Valkyrie… though I didn’t mind that too much and now this… Angel of Death… suppose it fits… but it was Ryan who pushed me to it. He’s the reason this whole war’s happening, it’s his fault. So fine.. if I’m just an Angel of Death, if that’s all I am now… fine… least I know my target._


	14. Smile

_Moses Lydecker,_   
  
_Left Behind:_   
  
_Ryan, you bastard. Left me here to rot… Sure, I sighed the contract: “help turn Fontaine’s into a prison.” Ten days, big rush, everything slapdash. Right before the prisoners are brought in? One of your piece of shit turrets- bam! Both kneecaps. Now I’m likely a cripple, locked in a jail- surrounded by maniacs! Haven’t even been paid, but I don’t care. Just get me outta here!_

* * *

  
The light stung her eyes as Em slowly began to come round. She blinked her eyes open a few times, her face hurt and she could smell a faint coppery odour in the air. Taste that same coppery flavour on her tongue. Like when you’d sometimes stick a coin on your tongue as a game, that coppery and metallic taste that lingered.   
  
The lights were changing colour, from red to blue and finally green, as she was able to focus a bit better she soon realised she wasn’t sitting down like she’d expected. She was standing up, but that couldn’t be possible. Still dizzy and coming to, she tried to move, but her arms and legs didn’t move in an inch. Panicked, she looked down at her legs, glad to see that they were still attached to her body, but then an icy dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Her ankles had rope tied around them. When she tried to move her arms again, still unable, she looked to them and saw her arms were also stuck to whatever she was leaning against.   
  
Slowly as her senses came back to her, Em realised that it wasn’t just her in this room, the others were there too. Josh and Caleb seemed to coming to themselves. Annabelle was already awake, tied to a post but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to any of them. Her eyes were closed and she was desperately praying under her breath. Initially, Em was glad to see her alive, but then that just brought up more questions of what was going to happen to them? Peterson, Oswald, Fredrick and Atlas were all tied to their seats, though it looked like Atlas and Fredrick were trying to get out, mumbling to each other. Peterson was panicking and Oswald was still unconscious.   
  
Aside from everyone that was still alive, they’d also been painted up to look like circus performers. Their faces a mixture of clown make up and the acrobat’s styled makeup adorned their faces.   
  
Em licked at her dry lips, before calling out to the other two. “Atlas, Fredrick!”   
  
Both men looked over at her, relief passed over their faces when they saw her staring back at them, though they did wince in sympathy. Christ, did her face look that bad? She was just grateful she was all in one piece and that her nose wasn’t broken.   
  
“You alright, luv’?” Atlas asked. “Glad to see you awake. Was gettin’ awful worried ‘bout ya’.”   
  
“I’m okay,” she winced a little, tasting the coppery and metallic taste on her tongue again. “My face hurts, but I’m okay, just glad… just glad I’m still in one piece. Are you two okay?”   
  
“We’re fine,” Atlas nodded, glancing over at Annabelle. “We can’t get through to Annabelle. It’s like she’s not hearing us…”   
  
Em worriedly glanced at her, before looking to Peterson also. “Peterson, you alright?”   
  
He stared at her with big eyes, his whole body was shaking and it didn’t like he was focusing on much either. His brain had already gone into panic so he’d be next to useless in this moment.   
  
“Ugh, christ…” Caleb groaned, rolling his shoulders a little. “I got the hangover, but I don’t remember the party…”  
  
“Shut up,” Josh bit back. “You can’t joke now, we gotta get out of here!”   
  
“Get out?” Alfred asked as he walked over, the rest of his band of splicers following behind him. He carried a bucket of water and once he reached them, he chucked it over Oswald to wake him up. “Why, you can’t leave! You can’t leave yet, we’re only just getting started!” He went on, tossing the bucket aside and holding his hand out to one of the acrobat splicers who tossed him his signature cane. It’s handle wasn’t as polished as it had been and it was stained with blood. “Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls of all ages!” He cried, holding his arms out, the cane in hand. “Welcome, to the greatest circus in Rapture! As you can see, we have a mixture of performers today! Not just our professionals, but!” He gestured at them all with the end of his cane. “We have a few of you folks from the audience! Give them a big hand everyone!”   
  
On cue, the sound of people clapping filled the air, some of it was the splicers, but most of it was a recording that was being played over the intercom system.   
  
Alfred let it play out for a moment before he snapped his fingers and it instantly stopped. He turned back to them, eyeing them all up, looking them up and down, before settling on Peterson. A smile grew across his face and he pointed with one finger at the young man, quickly the acrobatic splicers were grabbing him.   
  
Peterson kicked and screamed, alternating before bargaining and begging for his life. The rest of them were yelling at Alfred to stop this madness, to let them go, even though deep down they knew it was a futile effort.   
  
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Alfred went on, ignoring the screams and yells. “We have here, the box!” He gestured and a box was laid on the floor and opened. The splicers lifted Peterson up and stuffed him in the box, so only his feet and his head poked out of the holes that were left at either end. The lid was shut and a lock was put in place. Alfred patted at it, grinning at everyone. “Now, our ingenious magician… who’s name escapes me at the moment, but I assure you he’s out of this world, will perform his famous sword trick!”  
  
A splicer stepped forward, holding the swords in question. Now, everyone knew how these swords were supposed to work. They retracted back into the handle, giving the illusion of being stabbed in, but in actual fact, there was no harm of actually being accidentally killed. Now, however, that wasn’t exactly a certainty.  
  
“Now, don’t try this at home folks, our fellow here is a trained professional! He’s also so very good with boxes, did I mention that, why just look over to your left!”   
  
A light lit up a mosaic of boxes and two show girls standing next to it opened each one up. Em felt horrified by what she saw inside. It was Susie and Jane. Well, what was left of them. Cut up, rearranged and stuffed into each box. Blood dripped out of the shelves, staining the floor below.  
  
“Isn’t he just a marvel?!” Alfred went on. “Far too good to be wasted down here! Down were Ryan threw us away, threw all of us away, just like society did on the surface! Is there no where safe for the humble circus performer?”  
  
“You want to get back don’t you?” Atlas said, straining against his ropes. “Well, so do we. Let’s strike a deal alright? No more of this and you’ll be up there with the rest of Rapture in no time, I promise!”   
  
Alfred smirked, walking over to him, looking Atlas over a second. “You see, Mister Atlas, that would be a tempting offer… if it wasn’t your fault we’re all here in the first place! Do you understand? It’s because of _you_ that Ryan sunk this store. It’s your fault we’re trapped down here,” he backhanded him harshly, before walking away and straightening out his coat. “No. No, think of this as you getting exactly what you deserve. Now. On with the show!”   
  
He snapped his fingers and the so called magician quickly picked up his swords and stabbed the first one through the box. The yelling began anew, followed by Peterson’s screams. If there had been any doubt on wether or not the swords were real, they knew for certain now, that they were. The first blade went straight through and came out the other side coated in blood. It slowly made its way down the blade, dripping on the floor under neath the box, which had now been elevated onto a platform that allowed you to see the underneath.  
  
Peterson screamed and began babbling. Begging and yelling, crying out for Atlas to help him, but no one could do anything but watch. A second sword was added, Peterson jolted up as best he could, screaming loudly and still begging. A third was added and the young man started to choke and cough out blood. It stained his chin and coated his lips in a grotesque parody of a painted smile. Slowly his eyes rolled back in his head, his quick and shallow breaths gradually ceased and his feet stopped moving. When the forth blade was added he didn’t react, head falling back and eyes staring out into nothing. Their gaze empty and lifeless. The fifth blade was added, even though there was no reason for it and the magician stepped back, hands up in the air as if to say ‘ta-da’!   
  
All around them the splicers clapped and the sound of the fake audience was played through the speakers.   
  
“Thank you, thank you!” Alfred suddenly said, entering their view again. “If you would please return the member of the audience to his seat,” he gestured and they watched as Peterson was wheeled away from them into the shadows where the seats where kept. “Now… who next?” Alfred mumbled, tapping at his chin as he walked past them all, looking them up and down idly.   
  
Em was staring at the blood stains on the floor. Her gaze flickered to the shadows when she heard the wet sound of the swords being pulled out of Peterson’s body. She looked back at the rest of them, their faces were pale and Annabelle was sobbing uncontrollably. Her whole body was shaking and her prayers had become more erratic. Em looked to Atlas who looked just as scared as the rest of them. He looked at her and he mouthed at her that everything was going to be okay. She didn’t see how. She didn’t see how they were going to get out of them.   
  
“Oh I know!” Alfred grinned, pointing at Annabelle. “You!” Annabelle began to shriek and scream, she was in hysterics and her face was tearstained and blotchy. “Oh now, now,” Alfred scolded her. “No need to look so scared, this is an easy one! Look, here it is!” He gestured into the darkness and a spotlight suddenly lit up the surrounding area. It was a fish tank, a very big, very deep fish tank. “This is a trick performed by our escape artist,” he went on as Annabelle was dragged towards the small stage next to and above the fish tank. There was a safe resting at the top and she was brutally shoved and squished inside, before the door was shut and the safe was locked.   
  
“You sick bastard!” Em yelled at him and Alfred turned his attention to her, while the others wrapped a chain around the safe and fastened it with a lock.  
  
“You call me sick?” He frowned at her. “Why, this is simply what Ryan has done to all of us, what you damned us all too!” He snarled, pointing at her angrily. “Yes, this is all your fault!”   
  
“It’s Ryan’s fault!” She snapped. “He’s the one that did this. He’s the one that didn’t evacuate you! You should blaming him!”  
  
“The difference, you little bitch!” Alfred snarled. “Is that Andrew Ryan isn’t here… but you are.”   
  
“Oh get over ya’self,” Atlas snarled. “You’re just pissy because Andrew Ryan let ya go,” he smirked at him. “Just like you did the twins..”   
  
The magician that was standing next to Alfred frowned and looked at him. “What’s he talking about?”  
  
“Nothing!” Alfred snapped. “Ignore him! Stupid fucking leprechaun!” He turned to the safe and immediately put on his performer voice. “And now, behold this fabulous escape attempt!” He signalled and the safe was pushed into the water. They watched it slowly sink to the bottom. “Will she be able to get out?! Oh the suspense is killing me!”   
  
“You know she won’t be able to get out you psychopath!” Caleb yelled.  
  
“Performer!” Alfred called back, turning to the escape artist that came over to him. “You did teach her how to escape, didn’t you?”   
  
“Err…”  
  
“Oh. Well, this will be very boring.”  
  
“Was that what was wrong with the twins?” Atlas challenged. “Were they just too _boring_ for you?”   
  
The ice thrower came over, glaring at Alfred a little. “You said they died when the place sunk. That they fell.”  
  
“And obviously they did. Don’t listen to him,” Alfred waved his hands, he pointed at Em and grinned widely. “Now, ladies and gentleman, let us behold our wonderful ice thrower! You’ll only see it here!” The ice thrower dusted down his jacket a moment and turned to the imaginary audience.   
  
“Ladies and gentlemen please don’t try this at home, I’m a trained professional!”   
  
“I knew we should’ve given him piano lessons instead!” Alfred laughed, walking to the side and leaning on his cane.   
  
Em stared wide eyed at the ice thrower who formed an icicle in his hand and then proceeded to throw it. It struck the board she was attached to by her head. She could see herself reflected back in it and instantly her mind drifted to the woman that had been frozen solid by this monster. Shattering into a thousand icy little pieces in a blink of an eye. Another ice blade struck the board by her leg.   
  
“They don’t know, do they?” Atlas said, glaring at Alfred who looked like he was trying to ignore him. “They don’t know that it was you who killed the twins. How convenient that you should sink on the same day that you decided to kill them.”   
  
Another throw and it struck the board by her tied up wrist.   
  
“Why, one would almost call it a coincidence!” Atlas went on. “Or maybe just a well planned murder!”   
  
“What’s he talkin’ about, Alfred?” The ice thrower asked, his eyes trained on her, but he didn’t throw another shard of ice.   
  
“I don’t know,” Alfred snapped. “What did I tell you, you imbecile! Don’t listen to him!”   
  
“Yeah, don’t listen to me, listen to the liar. I gotta say, you did do an impressive job, coverin’ your tracks like that. Ya left the audio diary that anyone might find out, declarin’ that Ryan had sunk you and you were none the wiser, but then the twins had themselves separated. Ya’ lost one of your top acts in a blink of an eye.”   
  
“Shut up!”   
  
Atlas grinned, it was sharp edges and looked so very wrong on his face. “Oh, but we’re just gettin’ to the juicy part! After you ah, let the twins go, as you put it, ya then had complete control of all these poor souls! They’d be at ya beck and call, at your mercy. With how spliced they were, they wouldn’t be able to put two and two together, but unfortunately fer you, ya’ suffer from the issue that all supposed great men do. Ya got an ego and you just had to brag about their deaths didn’t you? Couldn’t resit it!”  
  
“Alfred?” The ice thrower snarled, turning to him fully. “What’s he talking about?”  
  
“What I’m talkin’ about, lad, is the audio diary you’ll find in his office! The one labelled ‘let go’! It tells ya everythin’ you need to know. He murdered the twins because they split. Hid the diary away in his office which none of you would enter by ya’self, you’d always be accompanied by him.”   
  
“He’s obviously lying!”   
  
“Go on, check it if you’re worried!”   
  
The ice thrower glanced to one of the acrobatic splicers and nodded his head. The splicer was fast, quickly scaling the wall towards Alfred’s office.   
  
“Look, there really is no need-,” Alfred began only to have his feet frozen to the floor by the ice thrower.  
  
“You can shut up,” he snarled. “We wait.”   
  
At the sound of brick work falling down, they turned to watch the splicer hoping down, an audio diary clutched in its mouth. It hopped to the floor, crawling over to the ice thrower and he pulled the diary out of its mouth.   
  
Around them, the other circus performers had slowly began to enter the light, standing behind the ice thrower and staring curiously at the audio diary, a few had circled round to block off Alfred.   
  
The ice thrower hit play on the audio diary, labeled like Atlas said it would be and Alfred’s voice came through the speaker.   
  
_“Well… sadly the twins are no longer with us… I, er, had to let them go. They made quite a mess when they hit the floor.”_   
  
All eyes slowly turned to the man the diary belonged to, as said man backed away from them now that he was able to break out of the ice from before. The Frosty splicer holding the diary froze the thing solid out of anger, dropping it where the diary shattered into a thousand pieces.  
  
“You let us get stuck here…” he snarled. “You killed the twins!”   
  
“How could you?!” Another yelled stalking towards him as Alfred held his hands out to them all. “How could you kill them?! You knew them since they were kids!”   
  
“You.. you’re all acting like I’m the bad guy! Did you forget what Oliver did!? He killed Martha! He froze her solid!”   
  
“You killed the twins and sunk us! You got us trapped!” Oliver, the ice thrower yelled. “You were going to kill us all! Besides, what was it you said about Martha’s death?!” He tapped his chin in thought. “Oh yeah! That’s it! Accidents happen!”  
  
“It’s all your fault!”  
  
“We’re trapped here because of you!”  
  
“You knew and you got us trapped!”  
  
“I’m in charge! I’m the ringmaster! Me! Me! Not you!” Alfred screamed, his hands coming alight and he began to throw the flames at the others. He struck a few of the clowns and acrobats.   
  
It set everyone off. They screamed, furious battle cries filled with anger and insanity. They charged him and he teleported away, but they were quick to hunt him down again. Atlas, Em and the rest that were still alive watched the scene from their places as the splicers began to tear Alfred Galileo to pieces. The acrobat splicers had begun to rip into him with the hooks they had, the others began to beat him up, Oliver froze one of his arms when he tried to throw fire at them. He then proceeded to slam it onto the floor where it exploded in a cloud of white and blue shards of ice.   
  
Alfred’s screams echoed around the room, as well as the sounds of every hit and every stab. Eventually the screams died down to pathetic moans, before all you could hear were the sounds of multiple stab wounds and the punches. Soon you could even hear bones crunching and cracking underneath the force of the hits. The circus splicers didn’t let up, but Oliver slowly made his way back to Atlas and the others.   
  
With a few well aimed flicks he’d thrown an ice blade to each one of her restraints that dropped her to the floor. Em slowly stood up rubbing at her wrists, while Oliver walked around the back of the board she’d been tied to and wheeled out a cart with all their weapons and bags on it. He pushed it to the middle of them, before undoing each and every single of their restraints.   
  
“Get out of here,” he snarled at them, gesturing to their things. “Take your things and go. Don’t come back,” Oliver glanced at the other circus performers who were still making a mess of Alfred’s corpse. “We’re being generous this time,” he mumbled turning back to fix Atlas with a glare. “And that’s only because you helped us see the truth. You come here again… we’ll make you join the circus… _permanently_.”   
  
They didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly they grabbed their things as well as the things left behind by the dead and bolted. Atlas took Em’s hand in his and they lead the others back to the tram. All grateful to be escaping the carnival that had turned into a horror show.   
  
They knew they’d gotten lucky with their escape. All thanks to Atlas’s quick thinking and sharp wit, without him they’d be all be dead by now. Still, that smile that had appeared on Atlas’s face… it troubled Em a little because well, it looked like he was enjoying himself. It didn’t stop her from resting her head against his chest as he had his arm wrapped around her while they took the tram back to their part of the department store.   
  
“Alright…” Atlas mumbled. “No more leavin’ our area. It’s gettin’ too dangerous. We explore our buildin’ and that’s it. No more. Too many times we’ve been caught in trouble or we’ve been captured. We can’t afford to loose anymore people. We can’t afford to loose any more of our people. Do you understand?”   
  
They nodded their heads in agreement, Em leaned out of his hold and reached up, kissing him softly. He returned the kiss with his own equally gentle one. It felt like a kiss that screamed how grateful they were to be alive. To still be breathing.   
  
Once they made it back, the rest of their people had been rushing to them worriedly. A few had cried when they’d explained what had happened to the ones they lost. They didn’t go into detail, they spared them that.   
  
Turned out, Em’s nose hadn’t been broken, but it had been close. Her lip was busted and half of her face was bruised up, her right eye was slightly swollen, but she was still alive. She also had a cut across the side of her forehead that needed stitches, but she was okay. The others were seen to and sat herself down with Clayton.   
  
Her son clung to her while they sat in the Manta Ray lounge. He kept looking at her face, eyes scanning over it, almost looking like he was trying to figure out a way to stop the pain. She assured him she was okay, just happy to be alive and to see him. She’d held him close to her, brushing her fingers through his hair.

* * *

  
 _“What is the greatest lie ever created? What is the most vicious obscenity ever perpetrated on mankind? Slavery… the Holocaust… dictatorship… No! It’s the tool with which all that wickedness is built. Altruism. Whenever anyone wants others to do their work, they call upon their altruism. “Never mind your own needs,” they say, “think of the needs of…” Of… whoever. Of the state. Of the poor. Of the army. Of the king. Of God. The list goes on and on. How many catastrophes were launched with the words “think of yourself”? It’s the “king and country” crowd who light the torch of destruction. It is this great inversion, this ancient lie, which has chained humanity to an endless cycle of guilt and failure.”_  
  
Opal sighed and reached over to the radio turning it off. She was getting sick and tired of listening to these things. Even though she turned off the radio, she knew it was going to do little to help. They’d still come over the PA system that was located all around Rapture.   
  
They always used to play, but you couldn’t hear them so well because of all the people. Chatting and walking around. Just the general sounds of everyday life.   
  
Daniel came through, picking up his coat and quickly buttoning it up for work. Opal was already ready. A long coat covering her evening dress for when she was singing in the bar.   
  
Rapture had started to come back to life in a way. It more felt like the people were fully aware of what was happening, but they were trying to ignore it. Out of sight, out of mind sort of dealing with it. The people moved along with their lives, some people didn’t believe what was happening and other believed that everyone stuck in the department store deserved it. They’d claimed it was all of Fontaine’s men, but some people knew the truth. The truth being that Andrew Ryan is a liar and people were disappearing every so often.   
  
Daniel smiled at her, gently taking her hand and rubbing some warmth back into her fingers. He kissed the top of her hands and she smiled softly back at him. He was trying to hard to keep her happy, to keep her smiling, but it was getting harder when you saw the way people stopped talking at the mere mention of something wrong. Of something that you weren’t supposed to say.   
  
Daniel had spoken to her about it, saying that a lot of people talked about everything that was going on at the bar secretly. Sometimes they even spoke to him about the things you weren’t supposed to. About wanting to leave and or that you disagreed with Ryan. They’d sometimes tell him about their plans to leave or escape Rapture, but those ideas were quickly silence by common sense. Though, as the year had gone by, people had stopped saying these things.   
  
They walked through the streets, taking a bathysphere to Euphrosyne’s Hall.   
  
Daniel opened up the bar, Opal slipped her coat off and got ready at the stage, setting the microphone at the right height, brushing her dress down as she got ready. Customers flooded the bar quickly and Sinclair was once again present. Taking his seat at the back with his usual drink. He’d get through a packet of cigarettes in the space of an evening. Opal would find herself watching him as he chained smoked like a pro through an entire packet.  
  
She sighed and began to sing softly into the microphone. The place was filled with friends, laughing and smiling as she continued to sing. It all seemed so peaceful. Like everything was just the way it was supposed to be, apart from someone lighting a cigarette with a snap of their fingers. It felt just like a bar would topside, but she had to wonder if they were out of time or could they really turn Rapture around. Could the city be saved? Maybe once Andrew Ryan was killed or died it could be.  
  
For a man who talked about change and moving forward, he was a man who did very little. He didn’t want them to change or expand. Not really. He wanted to keep everyone in one place. Keep them all in his precious Rapture. This place wasn’t a home anymore, it was a prison.   
  
She supposed she should get comfortable.

* * *

  
 _“A Rapture Reminder:”_ The PA system called cheerily over the speakers in Fontaine’s Department Store. _“The waters surrounding Fontaine’s Department Store have been seeded with an extensive number of magnetic mines. They are very sensitive. Do yourself a favour. Leave any thought to escape to the rubes. Life down in Fontaine’s is going to be what you make of it. So, make it great.”_   
  
People jumped when Atlas shot the speaker. The man looked livid. He’d not been in the best of moods when they’d gotten away from the circus, but now he looked like he might strangle someone. He seemed to collect himself and put the gun away, marching down towards them all.   
  
They turned to him, angry expressions on their faces too. That PA speech was new. Ryan had it made and played for them. The nerve of that man. It only served to irritate them further. It had certainly irritated Atlas.   
  
The Irishman stood up on a table, overlooking everyone who quickly surrounded him, staring up at the man who had been the only shining light of hope they had in this place.   
  
“Brothers and sisters!” Atlas yelled. “We’ve been trapped in here for too long! Too long have we suffered! It’s time I let you all in on a little secret! We ain’t dying down here!” He pointed to the window in the direction of Rapture. “We’ll be going back! We’ll be in Rapture, toasting to each other’s health! This I promise you, but now is the time for action! I know, many of you do not approve of violence, I meself detest it, but we have no other choice now!”   
  
He jumped down from the table, marching through the crowd, still talking to them all. Carrying on his grand speech, it was something they all needed to hear right now. People had been loosing faith, especially after that run in with the circus dwellers.  
  
“We tried to play by their rules!” He snarled. “We did everything by the book and look what it got us! Death, disease, poverty! Andrew Ryan promised us all a new start, he promised us that this place would be a paradise, a utopia, that every man, woman and child would be held equal. Look around you; I ask does this seem equal to you?” A few murmers of agreement sprang up in the crowd, Em was watching intently, her son standing next to her also watching as Atlas continued. “All we did, was hand out some kindness and compassion. A helping hand from those who were already suffering to others even less fortunate than us! We did nothing wrong, committed no crime, except in Ryan’s head, we committed the ultimate one! We showed a little bit of human decency! All we asked fer was a fair shake! Isn’t that what we deserve!? Isn’t that what _you_ deserve?!”   
  
Yells and shouts of agreement sounded up from the crowd. People who had been sitting down were now standing. Getting close and listening to Atlas who continued to march through them, heading towards the stairs that would lead to the balcony like structure overlooking their meal area.   
  
“We played their game! We danced to their tune, but oh it wasn’t good enough! Or maybe, it was too good! Frank Fontaine got too good for Ryan to deal with, so what did Ryan do?! Why he had him executed! He sent us a clear message that day! It’s time all of you learn your place!” Atlas got to the top, now he was standing at the balcony, looking down at them. “And now, he’s telling us, that this is where we will spend the rest of our days! Let’s add that to the long list of lies that bastard has told! We aren’t dying down here! We aren’t trapped! For too long we’ve tried to protest peacefully, but Ryan wouldn’t hear it! Peace is not a language he understands!” Atlas turned around picked up a shotgun, holding it high above his head he screamed for them all to hear him. “Well I say, let’s talk in his language! Ryan want’s a war, we’ll give ‘em one! He wouldn’t let us resolve this peacefully, so we’ll take the fight to his door!”   
  
Cheers sprang up, everyone was standing now and clapping. Crying out in agreement and shaking their fists. It started off quietly at first, but soon people began to chant. The noise getting louder and louder as the rest of the crowd caught on. Fists rising up in the air at each chanted word.  
  
“Atlas, Atlas, Atlas!”   
  
It became so loud that Atlas really had to shout to be heard over their noise. The shotgun still held above his head, he raised his over first into the air, yelling over their cries.   
  
“We shall take the war to him! We’ll batter down his door and make him beg! We’ll take Rapture back as ours! As the workingman’s! It belongs to us after all, we built it! With the sweat of our brows, this city is ours, it’s always belonged to us! We’ll take it back and we’ll claim it as our own. And when it’s all over, brothers and sisters, we shall toast to each other’s health, not in some scummy pub in Neptunes Bounty! Oh no, we’ll be knocking back a fine spritz and oysters at the Kashmir restaurant!”   
  
The chanting was almost deafening now. Em was rising her fist with the crowd, just like Clayton’s. Everyone held determined and angry looks on their faces. They looked like people who had been down here too long and had simply decided that they’d had _enough_.  
  
“Today, marks the beginning of _change_! Today we show those fat cats what it means when the workingman has had _enough_! Today is the start of the _revolution_!” He rested the shotgun on his shoulder as he continued to speak. “We’ll batter down their doors! We’ll destroy their shops! We’ll make waste to every single one of them stuffed shirts! Gather the weapons, gather the food! Today, we make plans! Go out and search! Grab the Plasmids, your explosives! We’ll turn their precious machines against them! Molly!” Atlas turned to her. “Get a message through to Limey, tell her to get the other’s ready! Raids, protests, tell her to get the rest to gather as many guns and weapons as possible and…” he paused a moment looking unsure, but the emotion soon left his face. “Tell her to get information on the Ace in the hole! She’ll know what it is!”   
  
Molly nodded and was quickly off to do just as Atlas had asked her. A few people frowned slightly looking confused. Em herself was just as confused as the others, but her son was frozen. A look of fear flashed across his face, he took a few steps backwards, almost bumping into the person behind them. She went to ask him what was wrong, but Atlas called her son up anyway.   
  
Clayton looked like a deer in headlights, but he walked up to him, standing next to Atlas and the man placed a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“I got a special request to make of you lad. Go down to the bunker, I’ll be there in a moment.”   
  
Wordlessly, Clayton nodded, turning around and walking away. It looked like he was walking on legs not really his own. Like he was scared of something, but Em couldn’t figure out what.   
  
“Felix,” Atlas turned to the man in question. “There’s a map in there, I want you to mark all the locations we can hit as soon as we get out of here. Places that’ll send a clear message. You understand? Mark them all down!” Felix was running off quickly as Atlas began to give the others orders. “Josh, Caleb and Oswald, I know we’ve had a tough day, but I’m gonna ask more of ya’. Go down and hack as many of those turrets as you can. We’ll turn Ryan’s own machines against him!” The three men were off quickly. “O’Riley, set up a perimeter and organise two full squads to gather us more weapons and Plasmids. Everything we can get our hands on! The rest of you, organise everything we have here and set up a security system. Explore all of these shops that we have on this level and block that goddamn Big Daddy in the Toy Department! Keep it in there!”   
  
People were darting left and right, Em herself was about to leave but Atlas’s voice stopped her.   
  
“My beautiful Angel,” he called softly, walking to her and gently taking her hands in his. “Oh, my glorious death bringer… Rapture surly has wasted your talents and skills… wasted them fer too long. Even I have,” he kissed her hands softly, “I have the biggest request to make of you, my love. It’s not for the faint of heart…”   
  
“You ever known me to be ‘faint of heart’, min kjærlighet?”   
  
He chuckled softly. “No, never, but this might even be pushing you…”  
  
“What is it, Atlas?”   
  
“Bombs.”   
  
“I already make bombs for us.”   
  
He shook his head. “Not those. I mean a big one,” he looked at her earnestly. “One that will send a very clear message to Ryan. One that’ll cause as much damage as possible.”   
  
Em sucked in a breath, her hands tightening a little in Atlas’s hold and he gently rubbed soothing circles on top of her hands with his thumbs. She was angry with Ryan, of course she was. She wanted him to pay dearly for everything he’d done. For ruining her life, for threatening her son. Nothing would ever amount to the rage she felt when Clayton’s life was in danger and he had nothing to do with any of it.   
  
She was angry with Ryan, but did that really mean she was angry with everyone else? All those rich pricks? Well, what did they do to gain her sympathy, they obviously said what they thought of them when they did nothing. They didn’t help. The only caused more pain, they only made things worse with their ignorance. With their denial that anything was wrong. Every time they looked the other way was another moment they could’ve stepped in and done something. So many lives could’ve been saved if the rich had just done something.   
  
She remembered the looks on all of the people’s faces that they’d lost while trapped down here. How all that had been left of one of them was a brain in a jar. The things that were being done to those little girls, to the poor people’s children and the rich just turned their backs. They looked the other way, even now when they knew what was going on behind closed doors, they did nothing to stop it. The people on the council had done nothing to stop it either. They hadn’t even made an effort to come out and tell everyone what was really going on or even try to stop Ryan. No one had. Not a single one of those stuffed shirts raised a damn finger to do anything and how many were dead because to it?   
  
They were just as guilty as Ryan.   
  
Looking back at Atlas, his face looked deeply concerned and worried. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head at him.   
  
No. She’d made up her mind, she knew what she was going to do. For her sake, for her son’s sake. She would do anything to protect him. Em had made a promise after all. She’d promised that no one else would hurt him, that no one else would lay a single finger on him and cause her beautiful boy any more pain. They would not be allowed to steal his childhood and here was Andrew Ryan, doing just that.   
  
_‘We all make choices, but in the end, our choices make us’_ , wasn’t that what Ryan had always said? That everything about Rapture, it’s core beliefs, was the ability to chose. Well, in the long run, this was the easiest decision she’d ever made.   
  
“I’ll do it. I’ll be limited to the supplies we have down here to make a big explosion… but I might be able to mix things up a bit,” she paused a second thinking. “Say O’Riley!” She called to the man as he walked past. “While you out there, could you find some screws and bolts for me? Nails, that sort of thing?”  
  
“Sure, Ms Em, but why?”   
  
A dark look crossed her face. “Andrew Ryan made the fatal mistake of trapping my son down here in this hell with me. He put my son in danger and not for the first time, either. He screwed me over, screwed us over! All of those rich prats screwed _us over_!” She looked back at Atlas and smirked. “I’d say it’s high time we screw _them_ over.”   
  
O’Riley was silent, he looked nervous, but Atlas only smiled at her, leaning in and they shared a kiss.   
  
“My Angel never fails me…” Atlas purred. “You’re truly a work of art, my love. Skill unmatched,” he turned to O’Riley and nodded to him. “You heard her. Gather as much of those items as possible. Em is right. The rich have screwed us over plenty of times, it’s time we return the favour.”

* * *

  
_Felix Mollroy,_   
  
_For All Occasions:_   
  
_So, uh… so, Atlas asked me to figure out where to strike first when we bust outta this place, but- you know, it all depends on when we get out, you know? I mean, November 5th? There’s a big founding of Rapture shindig at Fort Frolic. Valentine’s Day? You know, I mean, Arcadia’s real popular. Uh… And it’s near New Year’s Eve, then- hey, we could pop the corks off all the stuffed shirts down at the Kashmir Restaurant!_


	15. Killing me Softly with Her Song

_O’Riley,_   
  
_Death in heels:_   
  
_Atlas is planning a bomb attack… don’t know how I feel about it.. there’s gonna be plenty of innocent people getting hurt, especially since his Angel of Death is the one making it for him. Used to think she was kind and caring, but there’s a nasty streak to her._   
  
_Saw her packing the bomb with bits of scrap metal, nails, screws, bolts… that sort of thing. Makes the scars on my face burn just watchin her._

* * *

  
It was a quiet evening in the department store. Four months, they’d been trapped down in the department store for four months. It certainly had messed with Fontaine’s plans. Messed with them very badly, but it was okay, he could adapt. In many ways the extended length of time had improved his relationship with Em and Clayton. Em especially.   
  
Now it was quiet and he’d set everything up nicely. Molly had helped him out, especially when he’d approached her as the kind, but nervous Irishman who desperately wanted to impress his darling love, Emilie. Well, she’d been more than happy to help him out. Gathering what she could, even somehow managed to find a few candles, setting them up around the office, an old record player that miraculously hadn’t been damaged. A soothing romantic song played quietly in the background and Frank had slipped on his cleanest shirt.   
  
He honestly couldn’t believe that people seriously put this much effort into one evening. Apparently they did, however, since Molly had nodded in appreciation that everything was correct.   
  
The elevator dinged and he smiled brightly as Em entered. She looked surprised by what was greeting her, pulling her hair out of the messy bun she’d put it in so she could do her work. Em smiled, looking around in confusion, but she seemed happy. Turning to him and gesturing around herself.   
  
“What’s all of this?” She asked bemused.   
  
“Well, luv… these last few months haven’t been the easiest. We haven’t had much time to ourselves and I certainly haven’t had time to treat ya’ like a lady,” he explained, the practiced words rolling off his tongue easily. “Bein’ stuck down here hasn’t given me much time to court ya’ properly. So…” he gestured around him. “This is a sorry excuse fer a dance hall…”   
  
“You dance?” She rose an eyebrow looking slightly skeptical.  
  
He shot her a teasing smile back at her. “I do. Used to spend many nights topside when I was a younger lad dancin’ the night away in a small pub. Swept the dames off their feet, but I feel like you’re gonna be a difficult one to impress.” E  
  
m laughed, unclipping her tool belt and shaking her hair out. “Oh… Atlas…” she grinned at him. “You really have bitten off more than you can chew. Dancing is one of my favourite things and I am quite good.”  
  
“Well… that’s why I picked a slow dance.”  
  
“Some would say those are harder,” she grinned, stepping towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Easier to pick out mistakes. You’re a fine speaker… I’ll like to see how good your footwork is.”   
  
“Oh, a fine speaker am I?” He grinned, wrapping one arm around the back of her and gently taking one of her hands. She moved her other hand to rest on his shoulder and the two began to sway gently to the music. “You compliment me too much, darlin’.”   
  
Em looked vaguely amused, shaking her head, before she leaned up and softly kissed him. So gentle and so sweet. Like no other kisses Frank had ever received. Most of those in his past life had been merely passion fuelled. There had never been any love in those shared moments with any of the other women he’d slept with, but Em… she was different. It was nothing but love, love and comfort.

Frank would deny that he enjoyed it, but if he was being honest, he liked these kisses. There was something nice about feeling loved or cared about.   
  
Maybe he had been stuck in this department store for too long.   
  
Though he couldn’t deny that it was nice. After a long day of trying to keep everyone else organised and calm, curling up with someone at night that simply held him and ran her fingers through his hair… it was nice. Those soft comforting touches who’s only purpose was to sooth the impending headache.  
  
Em glanced up at him and smiled gently. “You know… you’re lucky I can’t drink or else I would drink you under the table.”  
  
“Oh, that a promise?” He was amazed, she was still as entertaining as he remembered her being. Just because she was in love it didn’t mean she was any less sassy and he loved it. It was like things hadn’t changed a bit, except Em was more comforting and loving to him. “I feel like I sorely missed out on an interestin’ sight.”   
  
“Maybe,” she winked. “I’m glad I stopped though. I hated… what I became… when I was..”  
  
“Hey now,” he soothed softly. “You got better, luv’. Ya’ got better fer ya’ son. There aren’t many who’d do that,” he meant that honestly. Playing these games with Em, wether she was aware of them or not, was an intricate dance of real and fake emotions. Real and fake words. These were real words being spoken, a good liar always told the truth after all. “You’re better than ya’ think you are, darlin’. Clayton couldn’t ask fer a better mother.”   
  
She seemed relieved at that, resting her head on his chest and sighing softly. “I’m glad I found you, Atlas…” she frowned, looking up at him. “What’s the ace in the hole? I remember you talking about it…”  
  
“Ah. That’s a secret of mine,” he winked at her. “A back up plan should things go wrong. Just gotta get it.”   
  
“So… it’s a secret weapon?”   
  
“Yes. Of a sorts,” he pursed his lips together, debating how much he can tell her. Em was, annoyingly smart at times. Annoyingly aware. Then again, he enjoyed that side of her too. It certainly felt more gratifying to be able to pull the wool over her eyes. Especially considering how smart she was. “Well luv, I ain’t gonna lie to ya..” He sighed and looked down at the floor. “It’s something I had Suchong and Tenenbaum develop. I ain’t proud of that… it’s a new sort of… bioweapon.”   
  
“You trusted those two lunatics?” She gaped at him, trying to pull away but he held her close.   
  
“Please don’t think bad of me,” he begged, trying to slip in the same amount of desperation into his voice. “I admit that I’d do it a different way if I could, but it’s desperate times. The ace is a new type of Plasmid. A safe one. One Ryan doesn’t know about and won’t know about. I’ve got people watching the slant to make sure.”   
  
“I don’t like this, Atlas.”   
  
“I don’t like it either!” He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them gently. “Please forgive me, my love. I’d never do it unless I thought it would help our course. Desperate times, call for desperate measures.”  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes and stepping closer to him, gently resting her head on his chest, continuing their dance. “Will it get us out of here?”  
  
“Yes, it should,” he mumbled, kissing her forehead. “I promise you. Clayton will get out of this place with me secret weapon. I promise you, I won’t let anythin’ happen to that lad.”   
  
“Desperate times…” she whispered, looking up at him with her sharp green eyes. “I trust you.”   
  
_Oh kid, you really shouldn’t.._ he thought in his head, but instead he smiled at her gently and kissed her softly. “I’m sorry I kept this from ya’ darlin’. I just didn’t want to trouble ya’. You’ve been so busy of late.”   
  
“Don’t patronise me!” She snapped pulling away from him completely and he held his hands up wide eyed. “Don’t you dare try the whole ‘patting the woman on the head’ routine! I’m smarter than you think I am, _Frank_.”   
  
_Wait what?_   
  
“You honestly think you could keep me in the dark for this long? That I’d never figure out what you were doing?!”  
  
 _What?_   
  
“Never mind it at all, Frankie, I won’t tell anyone yet…” she purred, gently pulling him close. “You’re already _drowning_. Are you sure it’s _me_ that’s wrapped around your finger or is it _you_ wrapped around _mine_ …?” She giggled and shook her head, pulling a knife out from seemmingly nowhere. “Oh you poor simple little man.”  
  
He felt the knife stab into his gut and gasped- shooting upwards in bed, eyes wide and breathing heavily.   
  
After a few heart hammering moments, his breathing returned to normal and stupidly his hands were clenched around his abdomen. Frank let out a breath, closing his eyes to sooth himself and return his heart beat to normal. Around the room sat the little remains of the candles that had once been lit. That whole little stint had been pulled by him, the slow dance, the candles, even the conversation itself had played out in his dream exactly as it had in real life. They just never spoke about the Ace and Em certainly hadn’t figure out the truth about him. Glancing next to him Em was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets, but it looked like she was coming round.  
  
It was just a dream. That’s all it had been. Just a dream.   
  
Em’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him with concern. “Atlas, are you alright..?” She asked, reaching a gentle hand to his arm, gently rubbing it.   
  
“Fine luv’…” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “Just… just a nightmare.”  
  
“Wanna talk about it..?” She asked, rubbing at her eyes.   
  
He shook his head. No he definitely didn’t want to talk to her about his nightmare involving her figuring everything out and then stabbing him to death.   
  
She nodded and rubbed his shoulders softly. “Okay, I understand…” she leaned over and kissed his shoulder softly. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too…” he whispered softly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.   
  
In the slight light they got from the huge round window, it made her skin a cold blue and her eyes seemed to shine in the dim light. Her hair looked black in low light, she almost looked other worldly, like how fiction depicted mermaids. No, no, Em wasn’t one of those, she wasn’t cold or heartless. She was fighting for the right reasons, she’d just gotten mixed with the wrong crowd. What was it that Cohen used to call her? A ‘Valkyrie’ or something? Yeah, that was it.  
  
Frank had been curious, so he’d asked Limey what a Valkyrie was and she explained it. According to her, the valkyries in norse mythology were a figure that chose who lived and who died in battle. They had the power over one’s fate. Their other job was leading the souls of the dead to the two different places of the dead. They were also warriors themselves and Frank felt like that name had suited Em perfectly. Especially now. She had the power over the result of his war. She was the key to getting him past Ryan’s gate.   
  
Calming himself down, he lay back down, staring at the ceiling. As expected, Em rolled over to rest her head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He’d never been the cuddling sort, but even now he wrapped his arm around her, playing gently with her red hair. Occasionally his fingers would brush against the scars on her back and shoulder. Em had told him what had happened to her and how she got those scars.   
  
It had frightened him to death when she suddenly started to scream while they were sleeping. At first he thought they were being attacked, but then he saw she was still asleep. In that brief moment he was reminded of Reggie and how bad his attacks used to be, so he woke her quickly. Em had been embarrassed, even said she’d sleep somewhere else, but he told her he didn’t care. After a while she told him what had happened, how she got stuck in the rubble for two days with her father’s dead body.   
  
He would admit he felt a little sorry for her after that. Haunted by things she couldn’t change or alter. It was something he could at least relate to.   
  
On that night it had been him to do the comforting, now it was her turn to comfort him. He didn’t want it. If anything, he wanted to keep her at a distance. Letting Clayton in had been a mistake, but the boy was important to him now and he cared about him, so he just had to live with that. It didn’t mean he was going to start lowering his walls to let anyone else in, especially not Em. He was already balancing precariously on the edge as it was, he didn’t need to overcomplicate things further.   
  
Besides, letting people in, caring about people? It was an inconvenience. All it ever did was cause him problems or a great pain. His parents, Ms Chlo, Reggie… nothing good came out of caring about other people. It only hurt. Better to be cruel and heartless than kind and open. He learnt that from a very young age, no sympathy for him after the beatings from the rulers, he was only told he deserved it. So, no sympathy would go out to the rest of the world from him. They didn’t deserve it.   
  
Head now a little clearer and mind made up, Frank settled back and relaxed some more into their makeshift bed. Em was already asleep again. He continued to play with the ends of her red hair, thinking and maybe pulling her a little closer than needed. So what? It was cold, a warm body next to him also reenforced that yes he was still alive and he was going to get through this. A survivor that’s what he was and what he always had been. You did anything you had to, to survive. Anything.   
  
Survival that’s all it was. In the end though, Frank would never have to worry about surviving ever again. He would be rich, him and Limey could retire and they’d never have to worry about going hungry or dodging the law. It would be perfect. Hell, if he did continue for a bit longer, he could use Rapture as his own private base. The Feds and the Cops wouldn’t think to look for him here.   
  
Everything would come together in the end. It was going to work out just the way he knew it would. He just had to be patient and all his hard work would pay off.

* * *

  
Clayton couldn’t sleep. He was finding it harder and harder to sleep recently, his mind wasn’t stopping, going at a mile a minute. Something just felt off and he couldn’t explain it. He just knew that something was wrong with Atlas. He was surprised his mum wasn’t suspicious, but she was in love. She wasn’t looking for anything to be wrong.   
  
He felt stuck in the middle. He liked Atlas and in truth, yes he did trust him, but there was always this.. niggling at the back of his head. This idea that maybe something wasn’t quite right. He seemed to be the only person who thought it, however, everyone else looked up to him like the man walked on water. Whatever that meant.   
  
Sitting up awake in his hammock, Clayton had a little lamp next to his bed which casted a warm glow around his sleeping arrangements. His backpack rested on the floor, next to his crossbow and now modified sniper rifle he’d made. He was taking shots now. Killing splicers. It felt wrong, he hated doing it, but it’s what their life had come to now. He also hated how easy it was. Ending someone’s life should never be as easy or as simple as pulling a trigger.   
  
Stuffed under his arm, his teddy sat, squished against the sides, he hadn’t let go of it. A little something to keep him company and comfort in these odd times. Of course he could still go to his mother and he did, but there were some things, like his doubts about Atlas, that he didn’t want to disturb her with.   
  
Clayton sighed and flipped a page in one of his animal books, the one Fontaine gave him, he was reading the same page he had been for the past hour. His eyes went over the words but it didn’t feel he was absorbing any of them. He’d read this section before, there was no point in reading it again.   
  
“We agreed we’d help him.”  
  
“We agreed we’d give him a gentle nudge in the right direction.”   
  
“You’re always so heartless to the plights of others.”  
  
“Not true. I can sympathise with the difficulties and struggles they must face, but scientifically speaking, death is ironically a part life.”   
  
Clayton looked up, startled and yelped when he found two people standing just at the edge of his light. A man and a woman dressed in old fashioned clothes. They looked related, hell, they looked the same. They must be twins, but where had they come from and who are they?   
  
“Well… I assume you’re happy now,” the woman spoke, “Now we’ll have no choice but to be clear with him.”  
  
“He isn’t the first person we’ve had to advise.”  
  
“And he shan’t be the last, first or present, but we can both agree that whenever we advise someone their ending is never, will never and has never been a good one.”   
  
“Even for ourselves.”   
  
“Case and point our current predicament.”   
  
“Who are you?” Clayton asked, already reaching for his crossbow.   
  
“I shouldn’t bother,” the woman spoke. “It shall do you no good.”   
  
“As for who we are,” the man said, “That.. isn’t important right now.”   
  
“Whilst you would be able to understand it.”   
  
“It would only add further confusion.”   
  
“Best we keep this as simple as possible.”  
  
“Quite.”  
  
“Simple as…?” Clayton rubbed at his eyes tiredly, blinking to get whatever sleep was in his eyes out. “What are you talking about? Who are you? I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.”   
  
The woman looked vaguely amused. “That would explain why you trust Atlas so much.”  
  
“He isn’t a stranger to you.”   
  
“In fact,” the woman went on, picking up the words that her male companion left off. “One would think you know him better than he knows himself.”  
  
“A scary thought for a man like him,” the man agreed. “He doesn’t like the idea of being predictable.”   
  
“Sadly we feel all his actions so far have been… easy to predict should we say?”  
  
“You aren’t making any sense,” Clayton argued. “Is Atlas a good guy, a bad guy?”   
  
“To be either of those things,” the man said. “Atlas would have to be real to begin with.”   
  
The boy looked throughly confused, sitting up at the edge of his hammock, before he slipped out of it, walking up to the twins. “Atlas isn’t real? Well, I know Atlas isn’t his real name but…”   
  
“I doubt the man himself remembers his real name. He has since been so many people, worn so many masks,” the woman mused. “Fate didn’t allow for him to do anything different of course.”   
  
“The truth and him aren’t on speaking terms.”  
  
“They never have been.”   
  
“I don’t understand,” Clayton pleaded. “Please, is Atlas a good person? A bad one? Is he going to die? What’s happening?”  
  
“He is both and he is neither.”  
  
“He is whoever he needs to be at the time.”   
  
“As for if he is going to die, well, in order to die.”   
  
“One has to have been alive in the first place.”  
  
“Atlas isn’t real.”  
  
“So Atlas has never lived.”   
  
“So Atlas can never die.”   
  
“A famous man once said.”  
  
“And a famous man shall say.”   
  
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person.”   
  
“Give him a mask.”   
  
“And he will tell you the truth.”  
  
“Perhaps,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “If that quote does not help you, then maybe this one will. I lie without a mask.”   
  
“Thus I am an honest man.”   
  
Clayton stared at them looking dreadfully confused. He didn’t fully understand what was going on or where these people had come from. They’d just appeared out of thin air. Like ghosts. All this talk about lying and masks, deception and honesty, well there was only one person that reminded him of. That was impossible however because.. because…   
  
“Frank Fontaine is dead,” he stated, looking up at them. “He’s dead.”   
  
“Ah yes, Frank Fontaine has been dead for a very long time.”   
  
“Almost ten years now I do believe.”   
  
“Ten yea- no, he died this year,” Clayton said firmly. “Fontaine died this year.”  
  
“No. Someone did die, but it was not Fontaine. Fontaine was already dead, but he did not die in Rapture.”  
  
“Indeed. For him to have died in Rapture he first would have to be in Rapture.”   
  
“And Frank Fontaine never stepped foot in this city once.”   
  
“So the man I knew wasn’t… then who was he?!”  
  
“Hm. That is a good question isn’t it?”   
  
“I’m not sure even he knows who he is.”   
  
“How does one identify identity?”   
  
“What is identity?”   
  
“Their name?”  
  
“Their actions?”   
  
“Their face?”  
  
“All things that can be changed.”   
  
“When you really think about it the concept of identity is rather flimsy.”  
  
“Is it your name, actions or face that identifies you?”   
  
“Or something else entirely?”  
  
“Perhaps you should stop looking at Atlas as a man you know.”   
  
“And instead look at him as a man you’ve always known.”  
  
“I… don’t understand…” Clayton whispered.   
  
“You don’t now.”   
  
“But you will.”   
  
Above them the lights flickered and flashed. Clayton shielded his eyes for a moment, when he looked back the place the twins had stood it was now empty. They’d just vanished out of thin air. Go as quickly as they’d arrived. Though, you wouldn’t believe they’d ever been there in the first place.   
  
The boy sat down on his hammock again, staring at the floor. They hadn’t helped. Their words had only managed to make him more confused.   
  
One thing was certain. Atlas wasn’t who he said he was and Fontaine… Fontaine hadn’t even been Fontaine. He’d been… whoever he was, but that still begged the question as to _who_ he was.   
  
What about the rest of it though? The… things about identity. Faces, names, actions… all of these things could be changed and suddenly.. someone became… a different person…   
  
Was it really that easy?  
  
A better question was, could somebody really be that cruel?   
  
Clayton wasn’t so sure if he was ready to answer that question.

* * *

  
_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_Too easy:_   
  
_Well it’s been three months now. I haven’t had much chance to record anything in a while, we’ve been either running for our lives or making more supplies or plans. Mum and Atlas have gotten real close these past few months, I’ve heard some of the men talking I think it’s serious. I’m glad she’s finally found someone that makes her happy and doesn’t want her to change. Atlas has even taught me how to shoot, I managed to make a sniper rifle for my size and strength, less kick back, multiple lenses, more power behind the shots. Now I sit on top of signs and in vents covering the others while they scavenge. Even saved Atlas once. I used to think it would be hard to kill people, but these things aren’t people and it’s actually really easy to kill someone. All you do is aim and pull the trigger._


	16. Can't Take That Away from Me

_Moses Lydecker,_   
  
_Message in a Bottle:_   
  
_I keep dropping Audio Diaries in the Pneumo tube like a message in a goddamn bottle. Hoping one’ll get through and someone’ll save me… if you get this, send help. I’m hole up in the show storeroom. The code’s 0-9-28._

* * *

Clayton sprinted through the long corridors, a group of splicers chasing after him. He’d been able to get a head start on them and he’d thankfully been able to keep it. Above him, Gabriel scuttled along the ceiling, backup just in case things went wrong, he could slow the other splicers down. The spider splicer had become exceptionally loyal to Clayton, he wouldn’t go anywhere without the boy’s say so.   
  
He sprinted around a corner, heading towards a funnelled in area where two pieces of cover rested at the bottom. Above them were Pneumo lines and as he got closer, Clayton took out his Air Grabber. He glanced behind them to see the splicers following him, turning back to the area in front of him, he smiled in relief.  
  
“Alright, go! Now, now!” He yelled, jumping up in the air, the Air Grabber propelling him up towards the Pneumo lines and he flew over the waiting ambush.   
  
Ten of Atlas’s followers, including his mother and O’Riley suddenly shot up from behind the cover. Most of them had their machine guns and they wasted the splicers. The bullets ripped through the splicers like stones through wet paper and the splicers fell to the floor.   
  
Clayton dropped down once the gunfire ceased, taking his own pistol out of his waistband, checking over the splicers. A few were still breathing but couldn’t move. The adults were quick to join him in executing the ones that were still desperately clinging to life. They tried to kill them as quickly as they could, not just for safety, but because it felt like the more humane thing to do.   
  
He tried not to look at their faces when he fired a single shot into the splicer’s forehead. It was easier not to look at them, to not see the person they had been. They weren’t there anymore. Whoever they had been, had died a very long time ago. Probably the moment they first started to take the damn Plasmids.   
  
“Hey look,” Caleb said, plucking at one of the splicer’s belts and lifting up a strange looking object. “It’s a Radar Range. Holy hell, I didn’t think there’d be any left down here.”   
  
The Radar Range was developed and sold by Fontaine Futuristics, though Em supposed it would probably be sold by Ryan Industries now. It was portrayed as being the quote on quote ‘oven of the future’, because it worked by firing microwaves out of it. You could cook your dinner in the matter of minutes instead of hours. Thing was, people couldn’t really work out if it was meant to cook a turkey or a splicer. Em knew a lot of the people in the Drop had used it for both.   
  
It was an odd looking gun. With a dial on the back to show how many microwaves you were using and how hot it was. The front had a almost a basket looking material at the front that would help direct the microwaves forward and not back at you. It would be useful to have one of those, both for cooking food and for.. well, cooking splicers.   
  
“My wife’s brother’s wife had one of those,” Oswald remarked as he stared at it. “Useful thing, actually worked, but they got rid of it in the end.”   
  
“Why’d they get rid of it?” Josh asked.   
  
Oswald frowned a little. “Well, we all went round for Thanksgiving dinner, everything was running smoothly, Clara, my wife’s brother’s wife, was cooking up the turkey right there in front of us,” his frown deepened a little more. “Then someone called from the kitchen, Clara turned around, Radar Range still in hand and still firing and well, um… let’s just say it was bye bye Aunt Susie.”   
  
Josh gaped at him and the others stared in both silent wonder and silent horror. Oswald didn’t see too bothered by the event, he grimaced a bit, but it was only ever so slight.   
  
“I mean…” he went on. “People didn’t like her all too much. She was the sort that complained all the time… but that was not a nice thing to witness. Anyway, it was an accident and they sold the Radar Range off. Makes a hell of mess, but it is useful.”   
  
Caleb looked down at it, pointing the firing end at himself, making Josh flinch and batter it out of the way.   
  
“Are you crazy?! Seriously?!” He gestured at it. “Would you point a gun at your face you idiot?!”   
  
“You really need to relax, it’s not like I pulled the trigger.”   
  
“Just, put the Radar Range away,” Em chided. “For all our sakes. Please.”   
  
Caleb shrugged and fastened it to his own belt, picking up what ammunition the splicer had in its pockets. They proceeded to pick the splicer’s pockets clean. Grabbing money, weapons, ammunition and little pieces of food that splicers had been carrying around with them, before heading back to their base. They’d gotten better at killing and laying ambushes. It had become almost second nature for them and whatever reservations they’d had about randomly killing people had faded over the five months of being trapped down here.   
  
They were humane enough to make the deaths as quick as possible, but they showed very little remorse for what they’d done. It was simply the way of life for them now and even Clayton, the most compassionate out of all of them, participated in the ambushes and hunts. Em hadn’t liked the idea at first, she’d argued it continuously, both with the others and with Clayton himself. She’d argued with Atlas too, one of the few arguments they’d had. Clayton eventually snuck out, helping them from the shadows. So it was soon revealed that she couldn’t stop him from helping them, especially when he was just going to sneak out by himself. That was potentially dangerous, better to have him with them and backup than alone.   
  
Now, Clayton would sit in air vents of signs, covering all of them with his makeshift sniper rifle he’d made. His genius and creative abilities were flying due to him needing to use them for once, but he did say he didn’t like using them for this. Not that they had much choice anymore. He liked being at a distance, however, when he killed splicers, because he didn’t have to look at their faces. It made killing them a lot easier.   
  
The group made it back to their safe area quickly, they now knew their side of the department store like the back of their hand. Their area had once been a mess, but now it was neat and tidy. They had someone sitting outside the entrance to their section on guard and a short wave radio by their side.   
  
Once they were back, Clayton darted off to the bathysphere show rooms. It had been where he’d go nearly all the time recently. She wasn’t too sure why, Em was concerned and had asked him, he just said he liked being on his own. Atlas had gone to talk to him about it and he’d brushed Atlas off completely, almost running away from him.   
  
Em set her things down and Atlas wandered over to her. He’d previously been talking to Molly, but as soon as he saw her he was by her side. She smiled softly at him and they shared a kiss. Looking over everything, Atlas pulled her close by the shoulders and smiled softly at her.   
  
“I take it the plan worked out?”   
  
“It did. Clayton volunteered to be the bait,” she rubbed her eyes. “I told him no, but he was gone. Gabriel followed him so… I just don’t like it,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t like him going out and helping us, he shouldn’t have to be doing what he’s doing. He shouldn’t have to see it.”   
  
“No he shouldn’t,” Atlas agreed quietly. “But better the lad be with us and we know where he is, then he keep runin’ off by ‘imself,” he kissed the top of her forehead. “I worry ‘bout him too, darlin’. Especially since he keeps… goin’ over there,” he glanced at the bathysphere show rooms and frowned. “He’s gone back there again hasn’t he?”   
  
“Yes… I don’t know why.”  
  
“Have I upset him? He seems to be avoidin’ me.”  
  
“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” she frowned at him. “You haven’t do anything to upset him, so I’m not sure why he’s acting this way.”  
  
“Maybe I should try talkin’ to him,” Atlas mumbled. “He had a problem wit’ me at the start… might have gone back to it.”  
  
“I feel like I’m loosing him, Atlas…”   
  
The man paused a moment, thinking something over it seemed and squeezed her shoulder tightly. “I’ll talk to him. You ain’t loosin’ him luv, Clay’ might just not know what to say at the moment.”   
  
Atlas stepped away from her, walking over to the showroom. Em watched him and sighed softly, rubbing at her eyes. Her son was her main concern and she’d tried talking to him countless times, but he would shrug or say he was fine. She didn’t believe him.   
  
“You alright?” O’Riley asked gently.   
  
“I’m worried about Clayton…” she admitted softly. “He’s been more distant this month.”   
  
O’Riley nodded slowly. “I’ve noticed that. It’s like he’s gone back to not trusting Atlas again.”   
  
“Yeah…” she looked to him and asked. “Has anyone said anything to him?”   
  
“No… not that I know of.”   
  
Em opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly rocked back on her heels at the force of her now ten year old son slamming into her. Wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tightly. Laughing a little Em pulled him closer herself, brushing her fingers through his hair. He peaked up at her, offering a little cheeky smile that he hadn’t flashed in a long time. A small flash of the boy he had been before all of this.   
  
She smiled at him, booping his nose and he screwed it up a little, waving at her hand a little. Em looked up at Atlas who was leaning on the edge of the door way and smiled softly at her, nodding a little. Em smiled and nodded back to him, before turning her attention back to her son. She gently guided him away so they could spend some time together again, like a normal mother and son.   
  
They ended up playing childish games. Catch, chase and hide and seek. At some point Atlas came down with some food, apparently the Radar Range was working perfectly. Though it seemed Josh had insisted that he be the one that use it because he didn’t trust Caleb to be responsible.   
  
“Like an old married couple those two,” Atlas mumbled as he ate his food with them.   
  
Clayton looked up at Atlas and tilted his head a little. He seemed more relaxed with him now, but it looked like her son had gone back to studying him. “When this is all over, would you marry my Mum, Atlas?”   
  
Both Atlas and Em both almost spat their food out, Em was choking on it a little, until Atlas gently patted her back. The Irishman stared a little wide eyed at Clayton, looking just as startled by the question as Em felt.   
  
“I um, lad that’s a little forward don’t ya’ think?”  
  
“It’s just a question,” Clayton shrugged. “You love my mum right?”  
  
“Yes, of course I do.”   
  
“Then marriage is the logical next step.”  
  
“Clayton, søntos,” Em placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s focus on the situation we have at the moment… I.. I’m not sure I’m ready to be married.”  
  
“That’s also a huge step…” Atlas agreed. “I don’t think you realise how big that step is.”   
  
“I guess…” he shrugged. “I just want.. I want a Dad, that’s all.”   
  
Atlas and Em looked at each other before looking back at Clayton who was staring down at his plate looking miserable.   
  
“What about Fontaine, lad?” Atlas asked softly.   
  
Clayton frowned a little. “That’s… complicated. I’ve found some things out recently that… make it sound like the man we knew as being Fontaine wasn’t the real Frank Fontaine.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Just something I heard…” he shrugged a little. “And you know… identity it’s.. a flimsy idea.”  
  
“What do you mean identity is flimsy?” Em asked him looking bemused. “You are who you are. Simple as.”   
  
“Yeah but, what is identity? Your name? Your looks? Your actions? What makes you, you?” Clayton tilted his head. “Most would say all three of those things, but you can change all of those. Identity is a flimsy concept, it survives as long as we allow it to, because we think no one would want to change who they are. What if changing who they are is their profession?”   
  
“You talkin’ ‘bout a confidence man, Clay’?”   
  
“I don’t know…” the boy admitted looking down the ground and he sighed. “Some… people have been talking to me. A pair of twins. They’ve been explaining things, even if their explanations are more confusing and convoluted than actually being helpful.”   
  
Em frowned slightly. “I didn’t know we had any twins here…”  
  
“They’re not with us, not strictly. They’re not even from here, their clothes are too old,” he shrugged a little. “I don’t know where they’re from, I don’t have any books about the surface’s history, but I know they’re not from Rapture or even… this world.”  
  
“This world?” Atlas asked skeptically raising an eyebrow. “Lad, I think you’ve been readin’ too much science fiction novels or comic books.”   
  
“No, it’s a well known theory,” Clayton countered. “Also all those weird shimmering lights that people keep seeing… like windows…”   
  
“Clay’, lad,” Atlas shook his head, but he was smiling at him. “That’s crazy talk.”   
  
“We’re in a city at the bottom of the ocean and people are throwing fire out of their hands,” the boy replied. “I don’t think it’s that far fetched.”   
  
“Maybe not,” Em said, smiling softly at her son. “But let’s focus on trying to get out of this place first. Then dealing with anything else.”   
  
“Yeah, still waiting on Limey to get me a line on the ace,” Atlas shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “Once we get that, everythin’ will be sorted, I promise ya’.”

* * *

  
Steinman sat at his desk, drinking a glass of what passed as whisky down here. He was currently staring at his latest creation. His work on a mask of real human skin. It was an amalgamation of different faces sewn together on the inside and stitched. Carefully he picked up his new mask and sat it inside the fridge he kept in his office.   
  
The fridge itself was filled with different pieces of the human body. Mostly it had a lot of different faces all kept together with needle and thread.   
  
What awaited him outside was not what he expected. Sander was with him and he had his four disciples with him. Apparently his fifth one, that Elizabeth woman, had already left his side. Not that Steinman was all that surprised. The woman didn’t seem to be Sander’s type, not just because she was a woman, but also because she had a sense of morality about her.   
  
The disciples looked nervous, staring at him and shuffling between themselves. One of them seemed to be drinking himself stupid.   
  
“Sander?” Steinman tilted his head a little. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“For your talents my dear friend!” Sander grinned at him before gesturing to his disciples with one arm. “My dear disciples here are lacking in… creativity. I thought you could inspire them and also… improve their… looks, should we say?” He smiled proudly at him. “Let them have a new outlook on life.”   
  
Steinman looked the four over. It didn’t look like they were getting much of a say in the matter, which didn’t surprise him. You didn’t say no to Sander Cohen after all. Not if you knew what was good for you. Better to just go along with his insane schemes and maybe make it out alive than just decline and certainly end up dead. When Cohen got an idea in his head that was it. End of conversation.   
  
The faces of the disciples were all so very different, which would certainly give him a playground to do something with. He wasn’t entirely sure what just yet, Steinman liked to get them on the table first before he decided what he was doing. Make it up as he went along some uneducated set of people would say. Steinman proffered to look at it as following the art and where it journeyed across the face. It was all so very beautiful to watch Aphrodite’s work.   
  
“I see,” Steinman replied carefully before letting a smile slip across his face. “Of course. I’d be more than happy to help. As you can see it’s been rather…” he looked around the empty waiting room. A room that had once been filled with patients and workers alike, now it was sparse and starting to collect dust. “Well, we haven’t been that busy. I guess I’ve just corrected all of those who seemed true perfection. It’s good to see a few of you still have some sort of class about yourselves.”   
  
Sander clapped his hands excitedly. “Oh wonderful, wonderful! This is going to be the greatest master piece you have ever created, I just know it… now…” he turned to his disciples looking them over before grinning. “Ah yes, why not young Fitzpatrick first?”   
  
Kyle Fitzpatrick went wide eyed and shuffled backwards a little, but Cobbs stopped him from going any further. Instead the other disciple pushed him forwards, making Kyle stumble a little, but the young man quickly collected himself.   
  
Steinman ran his eyes over his face. He was a young man, like Cohen had said, certainly the youngest here at least. Meant he was now in his early thirties. He had a young face however, round and youthful. A splash of freckles was sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.  
  
“Yes I can work with that,” Steinman mused, running his hand through his own hair. “I’ll reveal his true face.”   
  
“Excellent,” Cohen looked to Kyle and nodded with his head. “Well, go on then. Don’t be shy, Steinman doesn’t bite.. I promise you.”   
  
Kyle stared at Cohen, before looking back at the others seemingly for help, but they wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even acknowledge his frightened and pleading look. It wouldn’t do any good for any of them to truly acknowledge what was about to happen. What might happen to them while they lay on the operating table.   
  
The young man sighed, bowing his head a little, before he trudged forward. He didn’t look at Steinman as he walked past him heading towards the man’s operating room.   
  
“We shall await your return, young Fitzpatrick!” Cohen called after him. “Oh I can’t wait to see what wonderful piece of art our dear Doctor Steinman will reveal… I feel it shall be quite unique….”

* * *

  
_John Stevens,_   
  
_Hair:_   
  
_Hair keeps falling out… gotta get that hair tonic but the bastards at the shop said ‘sorry, we ain’t got no more!’ Well fuck you! How am I supposed to do a show and keep my job when my hair keeps falling out, you prick! Well… he had a lovely set of hair on his head and… wasn’t using it for anything good.. he didn’t need it.. I did. I needed it! Just.. wish it fit a bit better… on my head…*splat* Fuck!_


	17. My Wild Irish Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be at different times of the day because I'm back at work now, but they will still be updated daily. 
> 
> Also, I've changed up the BAS story line a little but the end result is (sadly) the same

_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_My birthday gift this year:_   
  
_Six months. We’ve been here six fuckin’ months. It feels longer, I’m ten now, spent my birthday down here, my gift was still being alive._

* * *

  
Emilie stared down at the body that lay in front of her with a cold sort of detachment. Maybe it was because she’d spent so long down here that finding dead bodies had just become common place for her. They no longer made her jump or horrified her. Or maybe it was because this son of a bitch lying dead on the floor had worked for Ryan and was partly responsible for her being trapped here. For her son being trapped here.   
  
Her eyes flickered to the audio diary lying on the table. It looked like a splicer had snuck in or maybe the man on the floor had just decided to take the easy way out. It was hard to tell, there didn’t seem to be much of a struggle in the room, just a lot of blood.   
  
Outside, some of the men and Clayton were looking through the various shoes in the shop. That’s where they were, one of the old shoe departments and Em had offered to look in the back, just incase there was anything useful around here. All she had been rewarded with was a dead body.   
  
Em reached for the audio diary and pressed play on the record button.   
  
A man’s tired and withdrawn voice came through the speaker. Almost sounded like a man who had resigned himself to his fate.  
  
 _“Heartless… that’s what this town is… All my audio diaries begging for rescue came back, unread, marked, ‘Return to Sender. Insufficient postage.’ ”_   
  
So it seemed that Ryan was as cruel to his own men as he was to others. Had she been in a different situation, maybe if she was up in Rapture instead of down here, she might have felt sorry for him. Em found it almost impossible for her to do so, however, due to the simple fact that he had also been responsible for all of them being trapped down here. In her mind, he got what he deserved.   
  
When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned reaching for her hand cannon but it was just Atlas, so she relaxed. He looked at the body that rested between them, looking up at her and raising an eyebrow.   
  
Em shrugged. “I guess Ryan is just as cruel to his own people as he is us. Can’t say I exactly feel sorry for him,” she frowned a little, looking away from Atlas a moment. “Does that make me a bad person?”   
  
“He made his choice,” Atlas replied cooly. “I doubt he felt much remorse when he turned this place into a prison. He probably knew what was going to happen. So no, I don’t think you’re a bad person for not feeling remorse for a man who’d never show you any.”   
  
She relaxed a little, stepping around the body and walking towards him. “Should probably get going. It’s not good to stay in one place. There’s also that… other problem we need to sort out.”   
  
Atlas’s eyes flashed with something that resembled anger, turning to look outside and a dark look crossed his face. “Yes… yes we really do.”

* * *

  
 _“Tell Ryan things are gettin’ hot down here real fast. The goddamn leprechaun is buildin’ himself a regular army. If you’d asked my opinion, which you didn’t, I’d send a crew down here and clean up the place, before they show up on your doorstep. But who am I, except some undercover schmuck you sent to give you straight dope?”_  
  
The audio diary clicked off and Atlas looked the man tied to a chair over.   
  
Emmett Wyman looked scared and rightfully he should. Turned out the little weasel was a spy and had been giving information to Ryan this past month. So it seemed the old man hadn’t been stupid enough to just think Atlas was gone for good. He was keeping an eye on them or at least he had been. He wouldn’t be getting any more intel that was for sure.   
  
Next to Atlas was Em, with O’Riley on the other side. His two second in commands. It had been fascinating to watch how these six months had changed the two of them. Em had become so open and warm as time had gone on while he’d been Fontaine, but now? Oh now she was cold and calculated. Able to inflict a great deal of pain on people and not show any visible remorse. Truthfully, Frank didn’t think the killing bothered her anymore. She’d been desensitised to it, hell everyone down here had.   
  
O’Riley was always a little rough around the edges, but now he was just damn right brutal. Though Frank would say Em could and would be crueler. Her traps she built with explosives and nails were as ingenious as they were deadly. It had certainly helped them to keep up the perimeter. Or at least it had.   
  
They now only had a few buildings, their whole level had been overrun by splicers, they’d even lost the Manta Ray Lounge with all their food. At least they hadn’t lost the testing area, so they still had all their war supplies.   
  
That building was where they currently were. Staring Emmett down and the man shuffled in his seat.   
  
Frank took a very long and patient drag of his cigarette staring down at the other, studying for any weakness that might show itself. In situations like this he missed Reggie. Nothing like having a wall of a man standing behind you cracking their knuckles to get people talking.  
  
“‘Leprechaun’ huh?” He said taking another drag and blowing the smoke to the ceiling. “Why I find that mighty insultin’ Emmett. I’m a little hurt.”   
  
“Atlas, listen-.”  
  
“Oh I’ll listen alright,” he snarled, standing up and kicking the chair he’d been leaning on away. “I’ll listen to ya’ sing your loyal head off about all of Ryan’s plans. I’ll listen to ya’ tell us everythin’ you’ve told him.”  
  
“I can’t tell you that!” Emmett cried, struggling against the ropes. “Ryan… he might kill me.”

“ _He_ might, _I_ will,” Atlas responded. “Though I am willin’ to be merciful… if you tell us everythin’.”   
  
Emmett kept his mouth shut and looked down at the floor. A fleeting form of defiance. Stupid bastard.  
  
“You put ya’ faith in the wrong man, Emmett,” Atlas said walking over to the record player and picking one record in particular. “I offered to be nice, but it looks like ya’ want to be treated badly.”  
  
“What are you going to do to me?”   
  
He chuckled quietly, setting the record running, as he moved the needle to start playing the music. Reaching to turn the volume up. No one liked to really hear the sound of someone being tortured, you had to be a really screwed up piece of psychopathy to actually like it. Frank always felt better when music was playing and it wasn’t just him either. Em and O’Riley visibly relaxed when the music began to play.  
  
 _“My wild Irish Rose… the sweetest flower that grows… you can search everywhere, but none can compare, with my wild Irish Rose…”_   
  
The song filled the room and Atlas turned it up just a little more, turning back to Emmett and patting him on the shoulder. The man jumped a little, the gesture was almost comforting, but there was a little bit of mocking behind it.   
  
“Ya’ see, I’m not gonna be the one who does anythin’,” he said, grabbing the chair he’d kicked to the side and setting it down near a desk so he could sit down and put his feet up. “If you’d been payin’ attention to the other times we’ve had to do this business… well, you’d know that certain songs are played for certain people and whilst I know it says the word ‘Irish’ in there…” he laughed and took another drag of his cigarette again, once more tilting his head back and blowing the smoke to the ceiling. “Well, to be truthful… it should say.. my wild Norwegian Rose… but that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so well…”   
  
Emmett’s eyes widened and he looked up at Em who was now standing in front of him, staring down at him with little to no emotion on her face. Eyes cold and dead. Walls. That’s what it was, just a wall she put up to protect herself. Frank understood that distance, he did exactly the same thing.  
  
Her hand was resting on her tool belt, a thing that was filled with an assortment of tools and now makeshift torture devices, but oh if she wasn’t good at what she did. There was an art to torture after all. You had to be able to do it and keep the victim alive, while also keeping them awake at the same time. Frank almost felt sorry for Emmett dealing with the now named ‘Angel of Death’, with no way of defending himself. Emilie was certainly a creative bitch when it came to enacting violent acts.   
  
That woman was gorgeous while firing a gun, but she looked truly beautiful when she was thinking of violence.   
  
O’Riley had moved to lean on the wall and turn his head away from the scene, arms firmly cross in front of his chest. Frank himself closed his eyes, playing with the cigarette he held in his fingertips, allowing himself to get lost in the music. The screams soon joined the the soft melody that filled the room, but he could concentrate on the words of the song. Soon the screams were drowned out by that soft melody and gentle voice. Frank even hummed along with the song, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.  
  
He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, his eyes were closed the entire time and he certainly wasn’t timing it in his head. Eventually the screams had stopped and were replaced with pleading and finally yelling out that he’d tell them everything they wanted to know.   
  
“Atlas,” Emilie said stepping away and Frank got up, walking over to see what the stupid bastard had to say.   
  
He winced a little when he took in the other’s blood stained appearance and bloody look. He wasn’t entirely sure what Em had done, but it certainly looked painful. Like he said, she was a creative bitch when it came to causing pain.  
  
“You’re a work of art darlin’,” he soothed, kissing the side of her head and muttering a quiet thank you, squeezing her shoulder in comfort.   
  
He knew Em didn’t like doing it, but she was the best at it. Hell, she’d gotten better at killing than him. He supposed it was because the woman was incredibly intelligent and she’d read up on medical journals while they were stuck down here to find out what the most effective and efficient way of killing someone was. To stop them from suffering too much. See, she killed the splicers quick because she viewed them as victims to Fontaine and Ryan through their lies. They were also too dangerous to let get the upper hand for even a few seconds. This stupid bastard in front of him, however, had the unfortunate fate of being employed by Ryan and Emilie hated Ryan. It was due to him that she was in this mess in the first place, it was Ryan’s fault that Clayton was stuck in such a dangerous place.   
  
A mother will do anything to protect their son, after all and this was no different. There were no lengths unreachable or steps she would not take if it meant she’d be able to get her son out of her or protect him. Everyone else rather did become background noise where her son was concerned.   
  
“Are you ready to talk now?” Frank asked, smiling at the bloody mess that was Emmett. “C’mon company man,” he mocked. “Start yappin’, we ain’t got all day.”   
  
“I told Ryan…” Emmett struggled to speak, spitting blood each time he spoke. “I told him everything. About this place… about the supplies.. all of it. He knows… he knows you’re going to be planning a war…”  
  
“And that little line in your confession,” he said, tapping at the the diary. “About cleaning house.. do you know if Ryan will be doing that?”  
  
“I.. I don’t know,” Emmett mumbled. “All of Rapture will be watching. He may extend an.. olive branch.”   
  
“Andrew Ryan be merciful?” Frank laughed. “Tell me another one. Let me guess? It’s just a ruse and the moment we have our backs turned he’ll shoot us in them, right?”   
  
Emmett glared at him. “What do you think?”   
  
Frank smiled, it was verging a little on the manic smile he’d been flashing towards the end of being Fontaine. The one that hinted that maybe his mental state wasn’t quite what it used to be.   
  
“I think,” he said, pulling a gun from his waistband and checking it was loaded. “That you’re a rat that needs to be put down and made an example of,” he lifted it and shot Emmett right between the eyes. The man didn’t even get a chance to plead for his life. The blood splattered the wall behind him and his head fell backwards, lifeless and limp.   
  
Slowly Frank lowered the gun, staring emotionless at the body.  
  
He was a grifter at heart. Always had been and when you grift you didn’t kill anyone, a good grifter didn’t need to, his first murder had been on the surface when he disposed of the real ‘Frank Fontaine’ and took his place. Well, technically that was his second, but he didn’t count the time he killed the bastard that had murdered the kind actress as murder. That was more justice to him.   
  
Still, in the department store and Rapture alike, death had just become another part of life for him. Another option. You messed up, you were a problem and a problem needed to be solved. What was a better solution than a bullet between the eyes?   
  
Rapture had gotten hasher and Frank got hasher with it. You adapted to survive, you couldn’t afford to keep your morals, those lines that had seemed so important at one point in time, suddenly became less. Not that he himself had many lines to begin with and they always seemed to blur or disappear. In the end, his morals became based around what he could get away with and this, killing, torture, human experimentation and any form of violence, he could get away with. Especially now they were in a war.  
  
“Write ‘company man’ above him,” he told O’Riley who looked a little startled but nodded his head. “We gotta show Ryan, that we ain’t messin’ around,” he went on, picking up the audio diary and slipping it into the man’s dead hands. They were still warm, but they were quickly loosing their heat. “He’s gonna take us seriously. We’ll escape and we’ll show ‘im, just what it means to turn his back on us poorer folk.”   
  
“Atlas,” Clayton’s voice crackled through the radio on his hip. “There’s two new arrivals down here.”   
  
Frank grabbed the radio from his hip, bringing it to his face so he could reply. “Clay’ lad? Where the hell are ya’?”  
  
“Main department store, Gabriel is with me don’t worry.”   
  
“You out of sight?”  
  
“Yeah, no one knows we’re up here,” there was a pause before the boy spoke again. “Did you hear what I said?”   
  
“New comers? Yeah. What’s it look like to you.”   
  
“Looks like they’re too fancy to be down here. By the sounds of things… they’re looking for someone… came down here willingly. Hang on,” there was another pause, this one longer than before then he spoke again. “Sounds like they’re here to find a… ‘Sally’.. we got anyone in our group with that name?”  
  
“Anyone left ya’ mean,” he mumbled before responding. “No lad. We got no one of that name in our group.”   
  
Frank began to rack his brain a little. Just what the hell was he supposed to do with this information? Then again… thinking about it a little more, maybe this could play right into his hands? Yeah, if he played his cards right they could take the bathysphere that those two had taken, escape with the men and women he had left, as well as their supplies and it should be smooth sailing.   
  
“It sounds like they’re looking for a kid.”   
  
Now that certainly caught his attention. In the month they’d been down here, he’d heard whispers by the splicers of a Little Sister somehow finding her way down here. He wasn’t entirely sure how, but the splicers had seemed to be adamant that yes there was a Little Sister down here. A Little Sister meant ADAM and a lot of it. His men had been craving their fix, surviving on the little droplets they’d been able to find, but a Little Sister? They could really splice them up and combat the splicers a lot better. Could be that these two new comers were looking for her and if he used them correctly… they could lead him directly to her. Then he could take the Little Sister for his men, kill the two idiots that helped him and move on.   
  
“Alright lad,” he spoke. “This is what I want you to do. Get ahead of them and place Gabriel’s spare short wave radio down I’ll get in contact with them. I want you to keep ya’ distance though, I don’t want you gettin’ hurt. We don’t know who these people are, but if they’re lookin’ fer a kid, then we need ta help them out. Poor darlin’ is probably alone and scared down here.”  
  
“Alright, Atlas.”  
  
The line went dead and he was certain that the kid was doing as he was told. About thirty minutes later, Clayton’s voice came back through the radio.   
  
“They’re coming…”   
  
“Thank’s lad. You stay quiet now,” Frank grinned a little, staring out of the window into the mirky depths of the department store’s surroundings. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? We saw ya’ arrive… are ya’ there?”  
  
“This is Dewitt,” a male voice came through the radio. “Who is this?”  
  
“Me name’s Atlas,” Frank replied. “I know ya’… that private investigator right?”  
  
“And you’re the supposed revolutionary that Ryan’s got locked up down here.”   
  
His eyebrow twitched at the reminder, but he continued regardless. “Got it dead to right, Dewitt. Though if I’m not mistaken, Ryan’s got you trapped down here too.”  
  
“You sound like you’re angling for somethin’.”  
  
“Well, me man down there has told me that you and ya’ companion look a bit too fancy to be frown away down here. Says somethin’ about you lookin’ fer someone.”  
  
“Get to the point,” a female voice cut through. “Are you making a deal with us or not? We’re running out of time.”   
  
Frank was vaguely amused by Dewitt’s companion. She had some sass to her, like Em did. “No nonsense kind of gal’ I see. Alright, I may be able help you find the person you’re lookin’ for. I’d be helpin’ you anyway, but I see that we can help each other. You got ya’self there a bathysphere, a radio controlled one. You’ll be able to get meself and my people out of this pit. You understand?”   
  
“Why help us?” Dewitt asked sounding sceptical.  
  
“You ain’t a sharp one are ya’?” Frank drawled. “I just told you. You can get us out of here, but besides the point, I fight fer’ the people, Dewitt. Last time I checked, you and ya’ young miss there are people. I’m no bloody Andrew Ryan. Helpin’ ya’ is the right thing to do, plus I happen to know this department store well. Side effect of bein’ locked up in here fer six months.”   
  
“And why should we trust you?”  
  
“As I said, I fight fer the people, Dewitt. You think any of us are locked up down here because we did somethin’ wrong?”   
  
He heard Dewitt sigh, one that sounded like a man that was giving up. “Alright,” Frank grinned as Dewitt responded to him. “We’re looking for a little girl called Sally. She’s got blonde hair, you see her anywhere?”  
  
“Can’t say I have… but I’ve heard the splicers over here in Housewares talkin’ ‘bout a Little Sister. Could be your Sally.”   
  
“Sally isn’t a Little Sister.”  
  
“Dewitt, these are splicers we’re talkin’ about. Ya’ think they can tell the difference between a Little Sister and a little girl when they’re ADAM starved? Ya need to get over here. Take the tram.”   
  
“We would,” the woman spoke again. “But the pipes burst. We’re looking for a Frosty splicer.”   
  
“Only one of those bastards in that part of the buildin’ luv,” he responded. “Name of Ray Lardner, used ta’ be one of Fontaine’s men until he came ta me after that bastard’s death. Well, he used to work wit’ me. He got too dangerous. Too spliced. The way I hear it, he’s taken over the ice rink over there. Can’t stand the warm temperatures all that much anymore, likes the cold. You’ll find him there, more likely than not, he’d of stored all the Old Man Winter and Winter Blast Plasmid with him. Greedy sonuvabitch that he is.”  
  
“Alright, we’ll head there,” Dewitt said. “You better hold up your end of the deal, Atlas.”   
  
“You have my word.”  
  
“I get the feelin’ that don’t count for much.”   
  
Frank sat himself down, Em coming to sit with him and lean her head on his shoulder, while he put his arm around her. “Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” He replied. “Trust me or don’t trust me, Dewitt. We both want the same thing and that’s to find this girl of yours safe an’ sound. I just hope you hold up your end of the bargain and get me and my people out of here. So really, I should be asking if I can trust you.”  
  
“You have my word.”   
  
“And I’ll take it. Watch ya’ self out there, this place is filled with splicers. Some of them ya’ won’t hear comin’.”   
  
He put the radio down and sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, but he was pleased. He had these two eating out of the palm of his hand and once they got their hands on that Little Sister, since Frank was positive it was a Little Sister, everything would be fine. Even if it wasn’t a Sister and was in fact just a normal little girl, which she very well could be, it still meant that he and his people would be back in Rapture. Then they could plan their big attack. It was New Years Eve today after all, be shame to ignore those posh parties in the upper places of Rapture.   
  
They’d hit all of them. Every single posh party and well to do restaurant and bar. A clear message to Ryan that they were back and they were angry. A message that soon Rapture would belong to him and Ryan would him be nothing more but a distant memory. Everything was moving along smoothly once more. Good thing too, since they now lost their whole floor level, only had a few shops for themselves. Their area was getting smaller and smaller, the splicers getting more dangerous by the day and they were running out of bullets. Having to dig them out of bodies and reuse them.   
  
Not to mention his line on the ace had gone cold. Things were getting desperate and he was backed into a corner right now. If he could just make it back to Rapture, everything would be solved.   
  
“You alright darlin’?” He asked Em, glancing down at her and she nodded her head.   
  
“Just glad Clayton wasn’t here when we had to do that…” she nodded towards the place where Emmett’s body sat. “I don’t want him seeing that side of things. I don’t want him to see any of it.”   
  
“Unfortunately the world don’t work like that, luv,” he said. “But… I agree. Clayton shouldn’t see that. We’ll never let him see the torture. Ever,” he kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”   
  
“Thank you…”   
  
They looked up at the air vent as they heard the tell tale signs of Clayton and Gabriel making their way back to the base. Frank signalled to O’Riley who nodded and put a board up before pushing the body round the corner. Clayton didn’t need to see it and Frank was going to make sure he never did.   
  
Gabriel dropped down with Clayton on his back and the boy quickly ran to Em, wrapping her in a hug. She gladly returned it and it was a switch had been flipped. She smiled softly at him and became a lot more relaxed and open. Like the woman she’d been at the start of this war. Clayton always managed to do that, bring out the caring and soft side of Em. Children, Frank supposed, always did.  
  
He reached forward and ruffled his hair a little before getting up from his seat, taking the radio with him. He’d need to check in with the surrounding areas that his people were hiding in. Make sure everything was the same as when he left it, that they hadn’t lost any more territory. Josh and Caleb had left to try and open up the Silver Finn Restaurant, but they hadn’t been back in two hours. Most likely the splicers had come across them and killed them. He’d send out a small search party to go and see just in case. He’d tried radioing them but hadn’t had a reply, so he was leaning towards them both being dead, which was annoying. They’d been very useful.   
  
The only other place they really had was the upstairs of the Manta Ray Lounge and the office of the personal bathysphere showrooms. That was it, everything else had been taken over by splicers and the Silver Finn had always been locked off to them. It was why Josh and Caleb had tried to open it up in the first place. So they could have a new area.   
  
This was his last chance to get out of here and finally take over Rapture. If they didn’t get out soon he had no doubt that they’d all be killed by splicers soon. He wasn’t going to die here, he’d come too far. Rapture would be his, whatever the cost, he would have the city.

* * *

  
_Mary Kestral,_   
  
_I need it:_   
  
_I need to keep taking the ADAM… if I don’t anyone could get me… anyone! You- you hear about it on the news ya know? Hear it loud and clear on the radio… news doesn’t lie. There’s a war on ya know? And everyone needs their ADAM but I need it more then any of them! I need it and then I can take that bastard out!_


	18. Razzle Dazzle

_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Observation #22:_   
  
_Observation #22 regarding unknown phenomena. What is source of phenomena? Suchong employ observers; observer task to find more phenomena. Observer reports back young woman, appear from phenomena. And just as soon, young woman disappear. Observer has nothing else to report on topic. If Suchong can find this woman, she will make interesting new phenomena._

* * *

  
“Atlas, you there?”  
  
“Dewitt? Gotta say ya’ had me worried. Haven’t heard from ya’ in a while.”  
  
“Ran into a little trouble,” the man replied sarcastically. “Listen we’ve got the Plasmid, heading to housewares now. You hear anything about Sally?”  
  
Em looked over at Atlas, the man was leaning on the table in the centre of the room, radio held up to his face as he had his conversation with DeWitt.  
  
Hm. DeWitt. There was a name she hadn’t heard in a while. Booker DeWitt, if her mind served her well. He ran his own private detective agency up on Market Street. She never paid him much attention. Would sometimes see him around, usually in the bars. Saw him every so often, but not to talk to. DeWitt wasn’t the talkative type. He kept mostly to himself.  
  
So why was he here? This little girl Sally, but who was she? Had DeWitt finally gone and gotten married? Seemed unlikely he didn’t seem to be the type.  
  
“No, not much,” Atlas said. “Though the splicers are whisperin’ ‘bout a Little Sister hiding in the air vents round here. Might be there,” he paused and glanced over at Em. “Hang on a moment,” he said into the radio before turning to Em completely. “Darlin’ do you have the vent schematics at all?”  
  
Em nodded, pointing to her work bench. “I’ve got the schematics for the whole place. Every system.”  
  
“Good. Send it through the phnuemo,” Atlas said, turning back to the radio. “DeWitt. When you arrive, check the phnuemo. One of my people is sending you the vent schematics. Should make findin’ ya’ little girl easier.”  
  
Em nodded once more, grabbing the right schematics when she found them and walked to the phneumo tube, sending the plans through.  
  
“Ya’ got ‘em?” Atlas asked. No reply came through. “DeWitt? You there? Ya’ got the plans okay?”  
  
“We just saw her,” the woman’s voice came over the radio. “She’s crawled into the vents, I’ll grab schematics.”  
  
“And who exactly do I have the pleasure of speakin’ to?”  
  
“I don’t think we need to be on first name basis, Atlas,” the woman replied. “You certainly aren’t on first name basis with us.”  
  
The line went dead and Atlas’s frown deepened on his face. He looked very put out, but Em was quick to be by his side, rubbing his shoulders soothingly and he relaxed into her touch. Atlas flashed her a grateful look, gently taking one of her hands and kissing her knuckles.  
  
“We’ll help them,” she soothed gently. “We’ll help them and rescue that girl and then we’ll be far away from this place.”  
  
“You’re sometimes the only thing keepin’ me sane down here, luv.”  
  
“Same with you,” she smiled gently. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Atlas. You saved my son and I.”  
  
“Just doing the right thing,” he smiled at her. “Acts like that are in short supply.”  
  
“Especially down here.”  
  
“Hopefully,” Atlas smiled at her. “We’ll be out of here before New Years.”  
  
“Oh?” She rose an eyebrow at him and smirked. “You planning on stealing a kiss?”  
  
“I’m a damn good thief,” he winked at her.  
  
Em froze a moment and stared at him. Atlas seemed to be just as horrified at what he’d said as well. He shook his head looking away from her a moment.  
  
“Why’d you say that?” She whispered.  
  
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It just rolled off the tongue, luv…”  
  
She stared at him, flashbacks of what had happened before with Fontaine ran through her head. All the things that had happened, the experimentation, the lying, the goddamn kiss. It was too much, she needed some air.  
  
Wordlessly she got up and headed outside, it was dangerous, but she just sat in the little office outside their main hideout. The splicers didn’t come in here and even if they did, she’d have some cover to be able to hide behind. Em sat quietly, her hands in her lap as she stared at the wall opposite her. God she hated Fontaine. Awful man. Probably one of the worst people she’d met in her entire life and considering she’s spent nine years of her life in Rapture, well, it was saying a lot.  
  
Nine years.. had it really been that long? She couldn’t believe it.  
  
Nine years ago she was working for Ryan, she lived by herself, not a care in the world. She didn’t have any friends, Em was closed off to everyone and she had planned to stay that way. Then what had happened? She made friends, she socialised, she had a son, she cared about other people and finally she’d even allowed herself to fall in love. Her past self would be scrutinising her. The twenty three year old Em who had first come to Rapture would look at the thirty three year old Em and think she was a complete idiot. Fall in love? Are you insane?  
  
Sighing she reached up and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. Emilie honestly couldn’t believe that she’d let herself fall in love. She wouldn’t say she regretted it, but things had been so much simpler when it was just her. Even when it was just her and Clayton, things had been simpler. She’d rushed into this so fast as well.  
  
The moment she saw Atlas she’d been smitten with him. Foolish of her, she knew. She didn’t even know this man’s name. How can she be so stupid?  
  
Love makes you do crazy things she supposed. The seven months she’d watched Atlas and been working with him before they got together, she’d had hope. This man was helping people, he was kind and generous. He was a good person and he treated her with respect. He complimented her and she would feel this warmth spread through her and all she could do was smile and say thank you.  
  
Em blamed Kelly for that reaction because her best friend had told her that’s what she should do when a good looking man complimented her.  
  
She wondered what her friend was doing right now? Was she okay? Was she safe? So many questions… she imagined Kelly would be asking the same ones about her.  
  
Hopefully if they got out, everything would return to normal. She could see her friend again.  
  
She could only hope.

* * *

  
“Come on Kyburz it’ll do ya’ some good to get out,” Pablo said, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “Get out there and have some fun. It’s New Years Eve.”  
  
“How can you possibly celebrate knowing where Em is right now?” The Aussie asked staring at him.  
  
Pablo sighed and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. Honestly he expected this kind of reaction but a drink would do Kyburz some good. The man had been so tightly wound recently. It was New Years Eve for crying out loud. He should do something to take his mind off everything. Hell, he might even find a date while he was out there.  
  
“Look, I just feel like you’ve been awful stressed,” Pablo went on. “Em is stuck in that place regardless, she’d want you to do something to relax. She’d want you to be good.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Kyburz snarled as he shrugged out from under Pablo’s arm. “Not like we can ask her, is it?”  
  
The other through Kyburz a withering look. “For the love of.. Kyburz, just come out with me for a drink. It won’t kill ya’. Think it’ll do ya’ some good. Even Daniel and Opal are going to the Kashmir.”  
  
“That’s their choice, I just don’t think I can celebrate when someone I care about is stuck in that awful place.”  
  
Pablo felt like strangling the other, but there was very little he could do about it. Personally he thought Kyburz was being stupid, but voicing that opinion was a dangerous idea.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, to try convincing him when the sound of heels clicking against the floor caught their attention. Turning to the stairs that lead to the lower part of Hephestus that they were in, they saw Kelly. A coat wrapped around her and her hair tussled. She looked frazzled and no doubt it was from all the waitressing she’d been doing.  
  
Kelly walked over to them, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she did so.  
  
In all honesty Pablo was surprised she was here. They weren’t exactly friends, she was more Em’s friend than there’s. So why was she here?  
  
“Kelly?” Kyburz looked concerned instantly. “Is everything okay?”  
  
“Yes,” she fiddled with her coat buttons. “Listen I know we don’t know each other very well, but… I don’t want to spend New Years on my own.”  
  
“Alone?” The Aussie frowned. “What about the others?”  
  
Kelly sighed. “Opal and Daniel are together at the Kashmir and I don’t want to disturb them. Rosa is working this evening, Ada has spliced beyond recognition, Sarah and Cammie are celebrating in Dionysus Park with the rest of Lamb’s little cult following and Em and O’Riley are stuck in a department store,” she rubbed at her eyes before leaning against one of the railings, wrapping her arms around her. “Look I… I just don’t want to be alone. Everyone is gone and… I don’t want to be alone… oh and Diane is with Ryan and he is someone I very much don’t want to see.”  
  
Pablo grinned a little and gestured to Kyburz. “Just so happens, I’m trying to convince this idiot to relax a little, so yeah, we’d love to.” Kyburz glared at him a little but he nodded his head. “Yeah, I know what you mean about being alone.”  
  
Kelly nodded stiffly, she shuffled a little bit uncomfortably. “Do you… um, do you know if Em is okay at all?”  
  
“No… no I haven’t heard anything.”  
  
“Okay…” she whispered, arms firmly wrapped around her but she pushed away from the railing. “I’ll see you later. High Street good for you?”  
  
“Sounds good,” Kyburz nodded. “Should we say… five?”  
  
“Yeah, five,” she agreed walking up the stairs quietly. “Thank you.”  
  
“No problem,” Pablo called after her, before Kelly disappeared out of sight. Kyburz glared at Pablo. “I hope you’re happy.”  
  
“Hey come on we did Kelly a favour, that’s all that matters.”  
  
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” Kyburz glared at him. “You just wanted to go out and get drunk. Don’t act like you did it for either of us.”  
  
“What do you want me to be, Kyburz?” Pablo asked taking out a packet of cigarettes. “Not myself?”  
  
Kyburz almost laughed at him. Instead he smiled tightly at the other. “You’ve not been yourself in a very long time, Pablo,” he said turning his back on him and storming away, calling behind him as he went. “Don’t forget, I still have that gun in my desk.”

* * *

  
“Atlas?”  
  
Frank snatched the radio off his desk and brought it up to himself. “DeWitt? Good news I hope?”  
  
“We’ve been able to close off the vents, there’s only one more. It’s in the toy department.” He paused a second. “The toy department? Would make sense for a kid to be there, but…”

“There’s something in there, isn’t there?” It was said more as a statement and less like a question.  
  
“We think one of those Big Daddies is wonderin’ round there,” he warned. The Big Daddy might kill them both, then there would go Frank’s escape plan. Hopefully the two suicidal idiots who decided to come down to a prison to save a brat would listen to him. Those bastards were tough on a good day and on a bad… well, there really wasn’t much difference. “The splicers sealed it off, but it still could be lurkin’ round there. I can get a group of us together…”  
  
“Take too long,” the woman’s voice cut through. “We’ll handle it.”  
  
“I like ya’ confidence sister, but do you know how dangerous a Big Daddy is? Those drills of theirs aren’t just fer gettin’ rid of coral and rock ya know?”  
  
“Do I sound worried? The girl needs our help. Especially if a Big Daddy is wondering around where she is.”  
  
“She’s right,” DeWitt said. “Sally’s only seven. She needs help. We’re going in.”  
  
“But the Big Daddy-.”  
  
“I can handle it,” he replied. “Elizabeth can use her… tear Plasmid.”  
  
Frank frowned. Tear? What the hell was tear? He hadn’t heard of it, certainly wasn’t one of Suchong’s but there was a black market for Plasmids. Maybe it was one of those?  
  
“Right. Well, whatever that does, we’ll come down as soon as we can. Gotta avoid splicers our end too, so it may take a while.”  
  
“I said I can handle it.”  
  
“Ya’ joking’ right?” He replied rolling his eyes. Goddamn do-gooder. This was why he hated cops and any of them hero types. They always did stupid things and messed up plans. “We’ll be down there soon. I won’t leave ya’ twistin’ in the wind. Don’t go in until we get there.”  
  
He didn’t know why he was bothering with saying that. Those cop types probably wouldn’t listen. They’d go running head long into danger and not think about how to get out of it or how to avoid the confrontation entirely. Even with a group of them they probably wouldn’t be able to put down the Big Daddy. He’d seen the brute steamroll over a bunch of splicers before, not a great sight.  
  
He gathered the few remaining men they had, Clayton even coming along with them and Em was right there too. He’d dutifully gone over to her and apologised for what he said earlier. Saying it was just a stupid expression and he’d never do it again. Internally he couldn’t believe he’d been that stupid to start begin with. He’d almost revealed everything because of that stupid little slip up.  
  
They made their way carefully down to the toy department, it took them longer then they’d anticipated, due to one of the elevators being busted. Then there were the splicers to deal with and that once again slowed them down. Each time they entered a new area there seemed to be a new set of splicers. Thankfully Clayton’s improved and specialised bullets, not to mention Em’s upgraded weapons did wonders for them.  
  
It took them near enough an hour to get down there and wouldn’t you know it, the Big Daddy was there. It wondered out of the toy department, swinging its drill by its side. Blood dripped from the end of it, the thick coppery smell hung in the air. Frank had a bad feeling that things had gone very wrong.  
  
When they entered the toy department, the place was a mess. The stands had been destroyed, there toys were scattered across the floor and crushed. The carousel that had once been standing in the room was completely gone and the roof of the thing was embedded in the wall. A bloody trail lead from the first floor and they followed it. What was left behind was utter carnage.  
  
DeWitt lay on the floor, his chest open and bleeding, his insides had been churned up and now lay scattered across the floor. The Big Daddy’s drill crossed Frank’s mind and he grimaced slightly. They always did leave a mess when they killed someone. On the floor next to DeWitt was his companion. The young woman couldn’t be much older than a teenager. She looked battered but maybe not as bad as DeWitt.  
  
A scream drew his attention and he frowned at the sight of one of his men yanking a small blonde girl out of an air vent. When the girl looked up her skin was grey and her eyes glowed that sickly yellow. It was a Little Sister.  
  
Em pushed past him quickly and snatched the girl away from the man who stared at the Sister with a greedy and hungry look in his eyes. She pulled her gun out and pointed it at the man’s head, holding the Sister close.  
  
“Oh come on…” the man moaned. “I ain’t had a drop of ADAM in months.”  
  
“And it’s gonna be a lot longer,” Em snarled. “You’re not hurting her,” she turned to Atlas pleadingly and Frank nodded along.  
  
“We’re not animals,” he agreed.  
  
“Let her go!”  
  
They turned to see the woman was struggling to sit up, her hand out stretched towards the Sister. She looked panicked and desperate to save her. Just like Em, she wanted to save this little monster. They weren’t human anymore, why couldn’t anyone see that?  
  
Clayton was quick to the woman’s side helping her to sit up, but she brushed him away, trying to get to her feet by herself on unsteady legs.  
  
Frank walked forward and caught her slightly. “Easy, luv,” he mumbled. “Steady now, it’s Atlas. We came down and found ya’, like I said we would,” he glanced down at DeWitt. “Guess we weren’t quick enough.”  
  
She pushed away from him and walked around him. Her gaze locked onto the body on the floor and it held nothing but contempt. There was no remorse to her gaze, if anything, Frank thought she looked pleased. He narrowed his eyes a little, studying her a little more closely. There was something different about her. Something… well, he hesitated to say otherworldly, but he couldn’t think of another way to describe it.  
  
“Give me the girl,” she said, wobbling on her feet again, but she was able to catch herself. “I don’t feel so good…”  
  
“I’m not surprised luv’, ya’ went toe to toe with a Big Daddy by ya’self. That ain’t easy.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand I..” She held her hands up and they began to shake a little. “What… my finger…?” She looked down at her right pinky in what looked like horror. “What am I…?” She whispered shakily, it sounded like she was asking herself more then anyone else in the room.  
  
“Luv’ are you alright?” Frank asked, narrowing his eyes a little. “You hit your head or somethin’?”  
  
She glared a little at him, turning away from him a moment and looked like she was trying to collect herself. “Just give me the girl,” she said. “She means nothing to you.”  
  
“You’re wrong. I care about her just like I care about everyone,” he said walking up to her. “You remember our deal?”  
  
“You made that deal with him,” she accused, pointing at DeWitt but she fell silent. “But I suppose… to save Sally… I would need to get her out of here.”  
  
“The bathysphere,” he said. “We take that back to Rapture.”  
  
“And leave all your supplies for your little war?” She asked. “Don’t look surprised. I have a fair idea you have your resources down here, how else have you been able to survive for so long?”  
  
“I’m not the bad guy here, sister,” he reasoned with her. “I’m just trying to help these people.”  
  
“I know, but I’ve seen men and women like you. They may set out with the best of intentions, but all they leave behind is blood and fire.”  
  
Oh Frank was counting on it, instead he replied. “We’ve been pushed to this. When a mother or a father is holdin’ the dead body of their child in a street, what can you tell them? What sort of peaceful solution it left open to them? I never wanted to start this war,” he sighed, hanging his head down. “But it’s what it’s come to. Now, you want to help this girl,” he gestured to the Little Sister. “I want to help my people. Look,” Frank placed a hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “We’ve got kids down here. Children too, do you think they deserve to see what they’ve had to see while they’ve been trapped here? The things this boy has been forced to do just to survive?” He said, staring at her pleadingly. “We made a deal. Even if we have to leave the supplies behind fer now, we have to get out. For the children.”  
  
She opened her mouth to respond, but winced, gripping at her head. She would’ve toppled over if Frank hadn’t grabbed her and steadied her. She was in really bad shape, they needed to get her back to the base. A doctor could or what they had left as a doctor, could look her over and they could grab their supplies. As much as they could and make a break for it.  
  
“C’mon luv’ you’re injured.”  
  
“Wait…” she said, stepping away from him after righting herself. “I’m okay. Just… I’m okay,” she closed her eyes and let out a breath. “I can get you back to Rapture.”  
  
“I know luv’, the bathysphere-.”  
  
“No,” she said, eyes opening and staring back at him with a look of determination. “Chances are, the splicers have destroyed it already, but I can.. get you back to Rapture. We won’t need to use the bathysphere.”  
  
He frowned at her. “And how you gonna manage that, sister? You some kind of magician?”  
  
The woman closed her eyes again, almost like she was… talking to someone else, before looking back at him. “Suchong.”  
  
Immediately Frank’s defences were up. He narrowed his eyes at the mention of the Koreans name. “And how’d you know that slant eyed wonder?”  
  
“I’m his lab assistant,” she replied calmly.  
  
“If it escaped your notice, Andrew Ryan sunk us five thousand fathoms below his shiny city,” he spat the words out, gradually loosing his patience with her. “How does Suchong propose to get us back?”  
  
“That’s between me,” she replied, pausing once again like she was listening to someone before speaking once more. “And the slant.”  
  
Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes and putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t believe her for a second. How could he? Escape without a bathysphere? What was she going to do? Magically make the prison rise back to the rest of the city? That was something right out a fairytale. It was impossible.  
  
“That’s a right fairytale you’ve dreamt up, sister,” he replied, glancing back at her, but the woman’s steely gaze hadn’t changed or faltered. “But down here, we got nothin’ but time,” Frank turned back to the rest of them. “Let’s go back to base. We got some supplies there you can borrow.”  
  
“Shouldn’t we search the area?” Clayton asked. “For some more supplies?”  
  
“Not a bad idea, lad,” he agreed nodding his head. “Fan out. Find what you can. Oh and sister?” He turned to the woman, his eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “You gonna share a name with us now? So we can at least call you somethin’?”  
  
“Elizabeth,” she replied, walking down the steps to look for some items too. “You can call me Elizabeth.”

* * *

  
_Herschel Weiss,_   
  
_False Advertising:_   
  
_Oh, you’re not gonna out-lawyer me on this one, Ryan. You knowingly promoted Old Man Winter with the implication it produced ice, not dry ice! The ice sculpture we commissioned for this year’s gala at the Kashmir stands where we left it, a month later, all 2500 pounds of it… And who’s still footing the room rental? Oh, not you, you son of a bitch…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've altered BAS a little, mostly so it flows a bit better. It always bothered me that Atlas was written as an out and out bad guy, so I tried to make him more how he would be from the original Atlas from the first game, but I'm still following the plot of BAS. 
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to ask them :D


	19. The Great Pretender

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_Slipping:_   
  
_Almost slipped up today, all because of a damn kid. Clayton sneaked out ta help. He helps more locked away in the base, but he still snuck out. Almost got gutted by a splicer for his trouble. Fuckin stupid kid. What do I do? Only save the little bastard, try ta tell myself it’s cause that was what ‘Atlas’ wouldda done, but I ain’t lyin’ to myself bout it. I did it to save the kid… cause I wanted to. What’s happening to me? The thing I damn well shouted too, ‘get the hell away from my kid’?! Little… kid ain’t mine. He’s Em’s snot nosed brat. Don’t have no one, never needed no one and certainly don’t need no brat. I… I don’t care, it was just… it… oh.. hell…_

* * *

  
They’d managed to make it back to their base without getting killed. The Big Daddy was now wondering around their area annoyingly but they’d been careful and had navigated their way around it. The woman, Elizabeth, seemed pretty shaken up by something, though Em wasn’t sure what. When they’d been looking around the toy department for supplies, Elizabeth had found something behind the broken and beaten carousel. She hadn’t said what it was, just said it explained a lot.  
  
Let it be said that it did zero to explain to her or any of the others. Elizabeth had kept an eye on Sally the entire time they’d snuck back to the base. Em had set Sally in a room with a bed, she sat outside it with her chair against the door, gun in hand. She eyed some of the men they had left, who stared at the shut door with hunger in their eyes. She didn’t like shutting the girl inside, but Sally would bolt if they let her walk around freely. Em also wouldn’t be able to save her from the men if they did snap.   
  
“Alright luv,?” Atlas asked as he walked over to Em, a bottle of soda in hand. “Here. Figured you could use a drink.”   
  
“Thanks,” she smiled at him softly. “You really think she’ll be able to help us out?” Em asked nodding at Elizabeth who was being given a crossbow by Clayton and a few other things to help her out.   
  
Atlas shrugged. “She seems to think so. Like I said, we got time down here,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.   
  
“Hmm,” she hummed, watching one of the men walk past and eye the door. Em made sure to show her rifle was loaded and she was ready to use it if she had to. “Hopefully her and Suchong will be able to get us out of here.”   
  
Elizabeth walked over to them, seeming to have everything she needed now according to Clayton. She had two health kits, a crossbow and bolts and a shot gun. Clayton had also given Elizabeth some Eve, a few lock picks and some boots which would be easier to walk in then heels.   
  
“Alright,” she said checking herself over. “Looks like I have everything I need.”   
  
“Not quite everything,” Atlas said, handing her a radio. “In case I need to get hold of ya’ or vice versa.”   
  
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said, attaching it to her hip.   
  
“I hope you can conjure up that miracle ya’ promised,” Atlas said sceptically and Em didn’t blame him. Just how was Elizabeth and Suchong planning on getting them out of here?  
  
Elizabeth smiled coyly at him. “Have a little faith,” she turned on her heel and went marching out the door, Clayton was quick to follow after her, saying he was going to tell her where all the traps are.   
  
The boy quickly caught up with Elizabeth, just before she left the main building outside which now had splicers and the Big Daddy roaming around.  
  
“Miss! Miss, wait a moment!”   
  
Elizabeth turned to him and frowned. “You should get back inside. It’s not safe here.”  
  
“It’s Rapture, it’s not safe anywhere,” he countered, “We have a few turrets set up, but you have Possession so you should be able to take them over no problem. Got two in the Futuristics bathysphere department.”   
  
She smiled at him and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning back to the door way, before she left, she paused and turned back to him. There was a frown on her face and maybe a hint of concern. “Do you trust, Atlas?”   
  
Clayton laughed, a smile on his face. “Of course I trust him!” He replied, maybe sounding a little too hysterical to sound true. “Atlas, he, he helped me. He saved me and my Mum, taught me how to shoot…” his fingers caressed the his watch as he became gradually a little more nervous. “He taught me.. how to survive, not just him, but.. I’d be dead without Atlas.”   
  
“You don’t sound so sure.”  
  
“I…” closed his eyes a moment and sighed. “I don’t know. Look, can I come with you?” He asked, tilting his head. “I’ll be an extra pair of eyes.”   
  
“I don’t think that’s my decision. Your mother might not like it.”   
  
“I go out all the time and you’re our only hope of getting out of here,” he grinned. “I’ll go and grab some extra things and tell her, okay? Just wait for me!”  
  
Clayton darted back inside the base, he didn’t ask his mother, he just grabbed a few extra things, made a quick audio diary and then he was off, running back to Elizabeth. She was waiting for him, like he hoped she would. Clayton knew all the best ways to sneak around, he’d show her all the air vents that he used to get around.   
  
They cautiously left the area, sneaking around. Elizabeth was headed in the direction of the Silver Finn, much to Clayton’s surprise. As they got closer, ducking behind some of the magazine stands he gently nudged her.   
  
“Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered. “We can’t get inside the Silver Finn. It’s locked and Suchong had it coded,” he glanced down at the body of Caleb that lay next to a set of tools. “Caleb and Josh tried to get it open,” he explained. “That’s Caleb,” he gestured to the body, but frowned as he looked around the area. “I don’t see Josh.”   
  
“There’s a blood trail there,” Elizabeth said, pointing to it as he went down a set of steps towards an old storage cupboard.   
  
“We’ll try that way…”   
  
They made their way over, quickly running inside and they found Josh. He was slumped against one of the heating pipes, the blueprints for the building laying next to him. It looked like Caleb and him had been ambushed. Josh had been able to drag himself here but died of his injuries soon after.   
  
Clayton wanted to be sad, he really did, but he was starting to find it harder and harder to be sad. Every time he saw a body down here, even if it was someone he knew, all he could think was how grateful he was that it wasn’t him lying dead on the floor. That he’d survived and made it. It wasn’t just him, other people were feeling the same.   
  
He knelt down and began to loot the body for anything useful. It was the only thing Josh was good for now. The only thing any of the corpses were good for. He picked up a bottle of the Peeping Tom Plasmid that lay by his side, staring at it. Why did Josh have this? Was he really getting that desperate he considered taking the Plasmids?   
  
Elizabeth wordlessly picked up the plans and looked over them, her eyes scanning the ceiling a moment and then she let out a laugh.   
  
Clayton turned to see what she was laughing at and then he saw it. There was a vent running across the ceiling, clearly it made its way into the Silver Finn, but someone had put a cupboard in the way. They’d cut away the air and vent and left a stupid cupboard as a barricade. Maybe it would confuse the splicers, but for anyone with an ounce of intelligence in their head, they’d know how to get around. Obviously Suchong didn’t think much of other people’s intelligence.   
  
Elizabeth walked over and Clayton quickly joined her, shoving the cupboard to the side and staring up at the now open vent that would give them access to the Silver Finn.   
  
“Huh,” Elizabeth laughed a little. “Obviously Suchong isn’t the master of subterfuge.”   
  
“I think Suchong is too narcissistic to think anyone else could be smarter than him,” Clayton said, handing her the bottle of Peeping Tom. “It might be useful. You can turn invisible.”   
  
She smiled and gently took it, opening the gap and taking a quick swig of the Plasmid, dropping the bottle on the floor carelessly. Elizabeth then quickly climbed up into the vent, she turned to give Clayton a hand, but he shook his head, climbing in by himself after her.   
  
He smiled at her and Elizabeth smiled back a little, turning around and two began to crawl through the ventilation. They had to hide a moment when they came across not one but two security turrets hidden away in the vents. Whatever Suchong was doing in the Silver Finn, he didn’t want anyone to know about it. He also may not be as stupid as they both previously thought he was.   
  
Elizabeth had been able to make her way past them and destroyed both turrets and then Clayton followed after her. They jumped down into the restaurant entrance where a big printed out newspaper article of Suchong was waiting for them. It said something about how Suchong had come up with the drinkable Plasmids, but that wasn’t what caught Clayton’s eye. It was the table with the photographs and a little model of a city that was… floating.   
  
He looked at the photographs more closely. Seeing a city in the sky, a giant angel statue, a photograph of a man that looked like DeWitt but younger and finally.. a photograph of Elizabeth. She was dancing and she looked happy. Dressed in an old fashioned skirt and shirt combo. More photos were scattered on the desk in front of him and he looked them all over, picking a few of them up and seeing images of huge metal men like the Big Daddy’s but you could see their metal skeletons.   
  
“Columbia…” Elizabeth whispered, though it sounded like she was more talking to herself than him. “He knew about Columbia… and, and Booker…and… and me…”   
  
“Who are you…?” Clayton whispered staring at Elizabeth in awe and wonder. He’d sensed there was something unique about her but, he couldn’t image this.   
  
She stared at the images on the desk like he had, not answering him, just continued to mumble to herself. “This Suchong must of found a way to reopen the tear I made to come here, but how?”   
  
“A tear? What’s a tear?”   
  
As if suddenly remembering that Clayton was there, Elizabeth turned and stared back at him. She opened and closed her mouth, looking unsure of what to say or where to begin. She didn’t say anything to him in the end, walking up the set of stairs that lead further into the restaurant. Clayton was quick to follow her, his head filling with more questions to ask.   
  
“But, who are you?” He tried again. “Where are you from? What’s Columbia?”   
  
Elizabeth still didn’t reply to him, instead she opened the door to the heart of the restaurant and stopped right in her tracks.   
  
In the middle of the restaurant was an odd looking device. It was big enough for a person to stand underneath it, almost looking like an archway with a floor. Blue sparks fizzled from it as it had been broken, the words bad juju was written underneath it in big capital letters, in what could only be assumed to be blood. In the middle of the machine, a light appeared. A thin, blue, wavy light, but as they got closer it opened up to reveal a whole new world on the other side. It was the world from the photographs outside. With sky and buildings floating about effortlessly, a golden statue was on show of a man. It reminded Clayton a little of the statues of Andrew Ryan that were scattered all around Rapture.   
  
“A Lutece device. That’s how he must of reopened the tear,” Elizabeth said, walking towards this strange machine and looking through the shimmering window that lay in the middle of it. “Look, the tear still leads back to Columbia. Plasmids, Vigors… he and Fink must of been in communication. Sharing secrets,” she walked around the machine looking it over, Clayton was staring at it in awe. “Like the Luteces,” she continued. “Until they were physically together. Why did I need to come here?”   
  
Clayton reached a hand towards the stage shimmering window, but Elizabeth quickly stopped him. Grabbing his hand as his finger tips hovered just over the shimmering light. It hummed with energy and he could almost feel the power radiating off it. He could certainly feel the warmth coming from the light.   
  
“What does this have to do with Sally?” Elizabeth whispered to herself and the ten year old stared up at her, tilting his head questionably. “What hasn’t happened yet? I told you, I can’t do that any-.” She rolled her eyes a moment later. “No,” Elizabeth said irritably. “The doors are shut. They’re-.”   
  
Elizabeth stumbled a moment, clutching at her head, eyes squeezed shut and then they snapped open again, with a look of realisation. Almost like an epiphany.   
  
“The Lutece particle. I use the Lutece particle,” she walked towards the window again, pointing at it as she seemed to be working things out. “If it can make a city float…” a smile formed on her face and she turned to Clayton, looking a little sympathetic to the confused expression he held on his face. “You asked me what a tear was,” she pointed to the shimmering window to another world. “That’s a tear. I used to be able to open them myself.”   
  
“Why can’t you open them now?” Clayton asked.  
  
“That’s… where things get complicated,” she rubbed the back of her neck nervously a moment. “The thing we need to escape this prison is in that world, in Columbia,” Elizabeth explained, gesturing to the floating city. “I can’t open tears, but we could use this device to go to Columbia and find a particle,” she sighed and gestured to the machine which was clearly damaged and broken. “But it’s been vandalised,” she quiet and seemed to be listening to someone again. “Sure,” she scoffed. “You know my tower didn’t come stocked with a Lutece device repair manual…. Yeah I’ll just-,” she sighed in defeat and nodded her head. “Okay. Okay there must be some information around here…”   
  
“If I know Suchong well, which I sorta do,” Clayton grinned at her. “I used to annoy him a lot.. anyway, he would have notes around here. He always made notes. On paper, blackboards, notebooks. There’s bound to be something around here. He was always meticulous.”   
  
Elizabeth nodded at him and smiled a little back. The two began searching the place, it got easier when Clayton was able to find the light switch. They looked around, but the boy stopped in front of one of the boards and his eyes went wide, quickly pointing at two photographs.   
  
“It’s them! The twins I see!”   
  
“Twins?” Elizabeth asked walking over to him and staring at the images of the Lutece Twins. “Wait. You know them?”  
  
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Clayton frowned. “They came to me and.. and spoke to me about Atlas. It got really confusing, I didn’t understand. They were talking about masks and… identity,” he shook his head a little. “Do you know them?”  
  
“Yes,” she replied. “They’re from the same world as me. Same universe. Columbia,” she frowned and looked down at him. “Why would they be talking to you about Atlas and masks?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I.. doubted Atlas for a bit and sometimes I still do, but that’s silly,” he turned and walked away, heading towards the stairs. “That’s just silly. Atlas is helping us. He is!”   
  
“Clayton….?” Elizabeth asked gently and the boy winced a bit. “Are you… scared of Atlas?”  
  
“No, no I’m not scared of him I just-.”   
  
“You don’t trust him.”   
  
He sighed and sat down on the steps, bringing his legs up to his chest. “It just doesn’t make sense ya’ know? He wasn’t there one minute and the next he just appears. You’ve seen him,” he looked up at her. “He’s got a face you’d remember, ya know?”  
  
“But you don’t remember seeing him?”   
  
“That’s the thing,” his frown deepened. “I feel like I know him. I feel like I’ve met him before, even though I know I haven’t,” he rubbed at his eyes and looked up at her pleadingly. “Am I going crazy?”   
  
Elizabeth smirked a little. “You’re asking the girl who talks to herself if you’re crazy.”  
  
“Listen, I’ve seen a lot of strange things and talking to yourself has moved down the list on weird,” he replied. “I’ve seen a human being turn themselves into a bee hive, I’m friends with a splicer that sings nursery rhymes off key and now I’ve seen cities that float,” he gestured to the tear. “Believe me, talking to yourself is the least weird thing you could do. Down here, if you didn’t talk to yourself, I’d think you were weird. We all do it. Even Atlas does it.”   
  
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said, walking over and taking a seat next to him, “I think… you should follow your instincts. What are they telling you?”   
  
“That something’s not right,” he whispered. “That there are things that just aren’t adding up and what the Luteces told me only made me more confused.”   
  
“Yes,” she laughed a little. “They have a tendency to do that,” she glanced down at him, studying him a moment. “Is that why you wanted to come with me? Because you don’t trust Atlas?”   
  
He sighed and nodded a little. “It’s not that I don’t trust him I just… I just can’t ignore the things that don’t add up, not like everyone else,” he looked determined a moment. “Mister Fontaine told me to never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves. He taught me to be in possession of all the facts, but I feel like I’m trapped in the dark and every time I get close to the truth, it’s like someone crushes the lightbulb or moves the switch out of reach. So I can never find out the truth.”  
  
“Have you spoken to your mother about this?”   
  
“No. She’s in love with Atlas,” he frowned a little. “I used to think that was a good thing.. at least I did for a while…now I’m not so sure,” he looked up at her and frowned a little more, but this time there was clear concern in his eyes. “Miss Elizabeth… your nose is bleeding…”   
  
Elizabeth reached a hand up and wiped the blood away with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “Come on, let’s find those notes.”  
  
They got to their feet and began exploring the rest of the Silver Finn. Clayton was still reeling a little from the idea of Elizabeth being from a completely different universe. That Rapture wasn’t the only city, that there were more and they were scattered throughout different universes. It was amazing. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to have answered. Maybe they could use this Lutece Device to escape Rapture? Columbia looked like a nice place, it was pretty and light. It was dark and decrepit like Rapture.   
  
They eventually made their way upstairs and while Clayton looked over some drawings of the buildings that Suchong had done, Elizabeth had gone to another work desk. There was an audio diary sitting by the drawings and Clayton reached to touch it, but Elizabeth’s voice caught his attention.   
  
“Come here, look at this,” she beckoned him. “I think I’ve found something.”   
  
Clayton quickly made his way over to her and looked at the paper that lay before them. There was a detailed image of the Lutece Device, with a view chemical structures drawn out.   
  
“These look like schematics,” Clayton said, looking them over. “I used to see loads of these when my mum worked for Fontaine,” he looked at the chemical structures and he frowned even more. “Wait… these are elements,” he said pointing at them. “Sodium.. titanium… it makes no sense,” he looked up at Elizabeth. “You wouldn’t have elements on schematics. Not written out like this at least.”  
  
“How do you know all this?”  
  
“I read a lot,” he shrugged.   
  
“I can relate,” she smiled at him, before looking back at the schematics. “But you’re right, it makes no sense for-,” her eyes widened in realisation. “It’s code.”   
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Code,” she said, pointing at the elemental structures. “A Vigenère cipher. If, if we assume hydrogen is ‘A’ and iron the twenty sixth element is ‘Z’…” she looked down at Suchong’s name that was listed at the bottom of the plans and grinned. “It’s right here… Never underestimate the fallibility of the egomaniac.”   
  
“You can decipher codes?” The ten year old gaped at her. “You can.. pick locks and decipher codes.. are you a spy? Only spies can do those things or at least they could in my comics.”  
  
“You can pick locks,” she smirked at him. “You had your own lock pick set.”   
  
“Well yeah, but I can’t decipher code, that was so cool!” Clayton grinned, a little of that childlike behaviour creeping through the cracks of the walls he’d built up to protect himself from what he’d seen and his actions. “What does it say?”  
  
Elizabeth looked down at the schematics again, squinting a little in concentration. “Looks like a punch list of things Suchong needs to fix the machine…a cold cathode tube… a carbon dioxide scrubber and… a heat sink. Any of the vending machines should have the cathode tube…”   
  
“You can get a carbon dioxide scrubber from one of the bathyspheres on show,” Clayton said, “My mum worked on a few of them. You should go with the Stingray. It’s got a submersible time of ninety minutes. It’ll have to have a carbon dioxide scrubber.”  
  
“Good to know… and the heat sink… we’re in a department store, where are we going to-.” She paused a second and smiled. “That’ll work.”  
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Do you know where any old man winter is kept?”  
  
“We have some,” Clayton said slowly. “Why do you- oh! The heat sink!” He grinned at her. “I get it! Yeah, we have some because they used to give free samples away with every bathysphere. Their engines would always catch on fire, so people would have to use the Winter Blast Plasmid or the Old Man Winter drinkable Plasmid to stop them from bursting into flames every five minutes,” he sighed a little. “Mum tried her best to fix them.. but Mister Fontaine wanted quantity over quality. I can get the Plasmid for you.”   
  
“Alright, you bring it here straight away, you understand? Then I want you to wait with your mum. She’ll be worried about you.”  
  
“But I can help!”   
  
“And you are, Clayton,” she assured. “Get me the Plasmid and bring it here, okay?”  
  
“Okay…”  
  
“Time to find these parts…” she said, walking towards the staircase, Clayton close behind her. “And then I just have to repair the most sophisticated piece of technology ever created.”   
  
“You can do it! You’re a spy remember,” Clayton smiled, winking at her.   
  
“Whatever you say…” she mumbled. “Guess we better find our way out of here.” T  
  
hey made their way down the stairs, heading towards the doors that lead to the way out. One the way past the Lutece Device, Clayton caught Elizabeth looking over the machine again. This time with less determination and more nerves than before.   
  
“Once I find the replacements for these parts, it should just be a matter of swapping them for the broken ones… she said optimistically.”  
  
“You can fix it. I know you can,” he thought about it for a second. “I’ll even bring my tools over, incase you need to use those.”   
  
They headed towards the entrance of the Silver Finn restaurant. The door was locked, but there was a key pad on the inside. It was a number code one and Clayton had practiced for ages on hacking these as well as the vending machines and other devices around Rapture. When he got out of here he was planning on sneaking down to Minerva’s Den to get a wrist mounted hack device, that carried hacking darts. That way he wouldn’t need someone with electrobolt to be able to hack the turrets or cameras, he could do it himself. He might pick one up for Elizabeth and his mum too, they’d both be able to use them.   
  
“I can hack the door panel,” he said proudly, quickly running to it and removing the glass.   
  
No sooner had he touched the dial then an alarm when off and the door was sealed with two extra doors, a turret appeared out of the floor, it’s light shining on them. They were lit up in a red glowing beam from the turret, but it didn’t fire.   
  
Suddenly Suchong’s voice came through the radio speaking to them.   
  
“Penalty for vandalism of Suchong device is death. Even for pretty lady.”  
  
“I suppose you’d be Suchong. Save your ammunition, your device doesn’t work,” Elizabeth replied calmly despite having her life threatened. She seemed to be almost used to an event like this happening to her.   
  
“Device works!” Suchong replied indignantly. Vandals Sabotage! You are vandal!”   
  
“Actually I intend to fix your device,” she said, a sarcastic smile slowly curled up her face. “That is unless you plan on coming down here and doing it yourself.”  
  
“It… not prudent for Suchong to return to lab,” Clayton rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and scoffing a little under his breath. Suchong’s hesitant voice came back through the speaker. “You say you can fix?”  
  
“I broke your code didn’t I?” Elizabeth rose an eyebrow. “Now, just the one to open that door and we’ll see what your creation can do.”   
  
“1 - 2 - 1 - 6.”   
  
“Your birthday?”   
  
“Enough talk! Fix machine!” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and walked over to the door, typing in the code. “Never underestimate the fallibility of the egomaniac…” she mumbled under her breath and the door slid open.   
  
They creeped out and Elizabeth turned to Clayton. He looked around nervously, hands reaching for his gun as he heard the heavy droning footsteps of the Big Daddy walking around somewhere on the lower levels.   
  
“Hey?” She said softly. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he nodded his head. “I’ll go grab the Plasmid,” he hooked a thumb in the direction of the base, taking a few small steps backwards. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. You be safe, Miss Elizabeth…”  
  
“You as well, Clayton and remember what I told you? Drop the Winter off and then go back to your mother, understand?”   
  
“Yeah, I remember…”

* * *

  
Kelly brushed her dress down as she sat at the bar, taking a cigarette out of her purse and lighting it. She glanced around to see men and women, a few children too, all dolled up. Ready to celebrate the new year. She didn’t really feel like celebrating. This year had been awful. She’d lost her job, she’d lost her best friend and now she might even loose her apartment. Then where was she supposed to go?   
  
She closed her eyes for a second and tried to calm her racing thoughts. She just wanted this year to be over, she wanted her friend back. Kelly had never felt as alone as she did this year. Everyone was moving on, growing up and she was left in the dust. Everyone that was left was growing up and moving on that is. They’d all gone their separate ways just about, she felt like after this year she wasn’t going to see any of the others again. Maybe she’d catch a glimpse of them here or there, but over all she doubted it.   
  
Glancing over at the door way of the cocktail bar, she saw Kyburz and Pablo come inside. Both men were smartly dressed, Kyburz and Pablo had both taken the time to smooth their hair back.   
  
She gave them a little wave and a smile, they followed suit and walked over to join her.   
  
“Thanks for coming,” she said, smiling a little, though it felt rather flat.   
  
“Of course,” Kyburz smiled at her. “Have you been waiting long?”   
  
“No, just got here,” she said, looking down at her purse while the two men took their seats at the bar. Kyburz sat next to her and Pablo sat the other side of him. “Truth be told,” Kelly went on. “I didn’t really want to come, but it would’ve been rude of me, especially after I asked… I just..” She sighed and took a drag of her cigarette. “I don’t feel like celebrating.”  
  
“I know what you mean,” Kyburz mumbled, looking down at the bar top. “After everything that’s happened this year… it doesn’t really feel like a ‘happy new year’ to me.”   
  
“How’d you think Em and Clayton must feel? And O’Riley?” She said, blowing the smoke to the ceiling. “Trapped down there in that awful place and all I hear is how everyone in there deserved it. Because they’re all of Fontaine’s thugs or at least that’s what they think.”   
  
“I’ve been trying to avoid people. Not listen to them,” he said, looking at the table top. “I’ve stopped going to the council, there’s no point. Ryan’s not listening to anyone anymore,” Kyburz whispered the last part. “Starting to think he never did.”  
  
“I feel like Fontaine’s death was only the beginning…” Kelly continued. “That it’s only going to get worse… I don’t even recognise Rapture no more.”  
  
“Yeah.. me too…”   
  
They fell into silence, both with frowns on their faces while the party raged on behind them. People were laughing and joking. Couples were dancing and a few people were dancing with their children. Kelly felt angry when she watched them. How could they be so carefree? Could they not see the world around them? Could they not see what was happening to the city? How long before Ryan decided that he’d send them down to the department store for some imagined slight?   
  
She was on edge about the whole thing. Constantly watching her back, she felt like something or someone was just going to come jumping out round the corner at any moment. Then she’d wake up in the department store rabid with splicers and monsters. Maybe a few people would be left that were sane. Maybe she’d find Em alive down there and safe. Maybe she’d find Em down there dead from trying to protect her son.   
  
Kelly didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be in Rapture any longer, she wanted to leave, but she’d signed hadn’t she? She’d read the letter about never leaving and it hadn’t bothered her. Why would she want to leave? She was going to paradise, you wouldn’t want to leave paradise. She wished she’d been blessed with the benefit of hindsight, so she could stop herself from making the decision to leave.  
  
If Kelly hadn’t of left topside, she’d still be working an office job and not be dead on her feet every night after finishing her double shirts at two different restaurants. It almost felt like she wasn’t getting any sleep.   
  
“Well,” Pablo said, breaking the silence. “I’m going to grab us a drink, what ya’ say?”   
  
“Yeah, sounds good, Pablo,” Kyburz mumbled. “I’ll have something strong.”  
  
“Me too,” Kelly agreed softly.   
  
Pablo nodded and quickly disappeared to grab the bar keep, leaving the two of them alone in their silence.

* * *

  
Elizabeth frowned a little when she found Clayton sitting next to the device, a bottle of the Old Man Winter Plasmid in his hand. She didn’t look too surprised however, maybe even a little relieved.   
  
“I know what you said…” he mumbled. “I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”  
  
“Somehow I expected to find you here,” she replied. “Is that the winter?” Elizabeth asked looking at the bottle.   
  
“Oh, yeah,” he got up and walked over to her, bottle in hand. “You know, it used to be sold as Winter Blast, but when Ryan took over Fontaine Futuristics he changed the name of some of the Plasmids. He wanted to scrub all trace of Mister Fontaine.”   
  
At the mention of Fontaine’s name, Elizabeth winced. She hadn’t done that before, but now she looked worried and generally concerned for Clayton. Her gaze maybe looked even a little sad, verging on pitying and Clayton didn’t like it. He didn’t like being pitied. His hackles would go up and he’d get annoyed. It felt like being pat on the head.   
  
“Listen, Clayton…” Elizabeth said, she opened her mouth a moment, closed it and seemed to think about it, before saying. “Look while I was exploring and getting the parts I came across some decoded morse code.”   
  
“Oh yeah, that’s Miss Limey. She’s helping us, keeping everything organised up in Rapture while we’re stuck in here.”  
  
“Yes, well,” she sighed and closed her eyes a moment. “Listen I read all of those messages and.. and it lead to something at the Manta Ray Lounge.. I…” Elizabeth sighed, looking down at the floor. “What is it?” Clayton asked with a frown. “I think it’s best if you see it,” she settled on. “You have to see it with your own eyes.”  
  
“Elizabeth you’re scaring me…” he whispered. “What did you find?”   
  
“Just…” she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Just go and see it. You’ll know it when you see it and you’ll understand. Here,” she knelt down and pinned something to his jacket. It was a broach. It looked old fashioned, a black background with a little white bird on the front of it. “Birds represent freedom,” she said gently. “You’ll get out of here, I know you will. You’ll have to be strong, you understand?”   
  
He stared at her with big eyes. “You’re talking like you’re going to die…”   
  
“I’m not going to die,” she said firmly. “That’s not what’s happening here. I just…” Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder. “Check the Manta Ray Lounge, okay? You’ll understand.”   
  
He nodded stiffly at her, before slipping his back pack off his shoulder, the one that carried his books and teddy in, pulling his toolkit out and handing it to her. “Here,” he said. “Just in case you.. just in case you need it.”  
  
“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling at him.   
  
Clayton nodded and slung his backpack on his back again, he pulled at the straps to make it sit more comfortably, before picking up his makeshift sniper rifle. He walked towards the exit, but paused a moment, hand resting on the door handle.   
  
Clayton looked back at Elizabeth with a frown on his face. “Miss Elizabeth?”  
  
“Yes?”   
  
“I.. am I weak for feeling sorry for the splicers? Does that make me.. does that make me weak?” Her gaze softened slightly and she shook her head.   
  
“No, Clayton, that makes you quite strong. Incredibly strong actually. You can see the person behind the monster and you can still show them compassion. Compassion is never a weakness, it’s one of the hardest things to hold on to,” Elizabeth smiled at him. “You should never loose it.”  
  
“But.. I can’t kill the splicers.. it’s..” He closed his eyes. “That’s wrong, I can and I have been.. I..”  
  
“Clayton, the person they were, it’s gone and whatever remains of the person they had been… you’re setting them free from an awful existence..” She said. “Do you hear the splicers? Do they sound happy to you?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“Then, I’d say you’re putting them to rest. You’re allowing them to finally find peace, you have to see it like that. Don’t ever view yourself as an evil or weak person, because you’re not,” she told him firmly. “To still hold compassion in your heart for those.. things out there, that would kill you as soon as look at you… no, that isn’t a weakness. It’s a great strength. You should be proud of yourself.”   
  
He nodded slightly, whispering a soft. “Okay,” before leaving the area and wishing her luck.   
  
Clayton snuck past the splicers, he was heading towards the base, but Elizabeth’s words still rang in his head. The Manta Ray Lounge, there was something there for him to see.   
  
He closed his eyes a moment, then made a mad dash for the Lounge. A few splicers heard him, but they didn’t spot him and he was able to quickly dive inside and hide. Once everything had died down and the splicers had given up, Clayton got back to his feet, walking up the stairs to the main area of the Lounge.   
  
Once he got there he could see the remains of the fight that had broken out between their men and the splicers that had stormed their area. The bodies of their people still littered the floor and broken glass and Champagne bottles littered the floor. It looked like there’d been a party here before the splicers had attacked.   
  
What was he supposed to see here?   
  
Slowly he made his way through the lounge, he found the splicers that Elizabeth had taken out lying around, clearly knocked unconscious. A few were dead, but not many. Looked like Elizabeth didn’t like killing either.   
  
Cautiously, Clayton walked up the stairs at the other end, he reached the elevator and frowned a little. There was nothing here. What was he supposed to see? What had frightened Elizabeth so much? He didn’t take her as a woman that was easily scared at all.   
  
Then out of the corner of his eye, through the glass panelling that separated the one of the private booths, he saw a warm yellow light. It reminded him of the kind of light he’d had in his old home. The apartment that had felt like the greatest luxury Clayton had ever had. It didn’t make sense for that kind of light to be here, all the lights in the Lounge were a white light, not a warm yellow.  
  
He walked around to the private booth and froze.   
  
The whole wall was missing and instead it lead into an entirely new room. A room that shouldn’t be there at all. It wasn’t that the light had been yellow either, it was the warm wooden panelling, almost feeling like a home. He slowly made his way inside, a little startled and surprised by what he found. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been what looked like a costume cupboard. Actually, it looked like one of those dressing rooms actors and actresses used, right down to the huge mirror with the lights around it.   
  
Slowly he walked over to it, looking down at the table, finding a few jars of cosmetic make up, professional stuff too. Next to all of this was a mannequin head with a golden brown wig, just like Atlas’s hair. Not. That was ridiculous, his mother would sometimes run her fingers through his hair, if it was a wig it would’ve come off.   
  
Looking to the right of the wig, he found and audio diary. Maybe this would give a clue as to who it was that this room belonged to. He hit play on the diary and immediately dropped it when the voice came through, staring in horror at the diary.   
  
_“Suchong, I’m gonna make this clear as can be, so we don’t have any miscommunications,”_ Fontaine’s unmistakable voice snarled through the speaker. _“Where - the hell - is the ace - In the hole? You think you can stiff Frank Fontaine? I paid good money for state a’ the art weaponry. I ain’t losin’ this war just because you found yourself a higher bidder. I can promise you, I ain’t never been one to lose with dignity.”_   
  
Clayton stumbled backwards, away from the diary, wishing he could take back everything he just heard. His head hurt, it felt like it was splitting in two. Too much information all at once and he suddenly had flashes from the past springing up in his mind. Events and words spoken between him and Fontaine. Words spoken between him and Atlas.  
  
 _“Never trust everyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves.”_  
  
 _“You’re really smart, Mister Fontaine.” “Nah, kid, just understand people.”_  
  
 _“I’m Atlas and I aim to keep you alive.”_  
  
 _“You askin’ me or tellin’ me?” “Telling you, Mister Fontaine.” “It’s Atlas, lad. Fontaine’s dead, remember?”_  
  
 _“Message received Ryan!” “Taking the Taint out of Fontaine.”_  
  
 _“Ryan sent us all a clear message when he had Frank Fontaine put down.”_  
  
 _“Just because you’re down, it don’t mean you’re out.”_  
  
 _“Atlas isn’t real.”_  
  
 _“He is whoever he needs to be at the time.”_  
  
 _“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person.” “Give him a mask.” “And he will tell you the truth.”_  
  
 _“Just because you’re down, it don’t mean you’re out.”_  
  
 _“I can promise you, I ain’t never been one to lose with dignity.”_   
  
Clayton clutched at his neck, his eyes wide and breathing rapid. Coming in and out in short sharp bursts. Unable to fill his lungs up completely, it felt like he was choking as he tumbled to the floor, curling in on himself. Eyes wide and glassy not focusing on anything, the words ringing through his mind lighting fast. He was having a hard time catching them. He couldn’t suck in any air, he felt like he was dying.   
  
“I can’t breath…” he choked, the tears streaming down his face. “I can’t breath. I’m dying.. I can’t breath!”   
  
Underneath the panic there was the unmistakable stab in the gut of betrayal. He’d put so much trust in this man, he’d loved Fontaine as the father he’d never had and it had all just been thrown back in his face. Clayton gulped down lung fulls of air, choking a little on each one.   
  
_“If that quote does not help you, then maybe this one will. I lie without a mask.” “Thus I am an honest man.”_   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking down breath after breath, desperately trying not to choke on them. Clayton loosened his hold on his neck and grabbed the edge of the wardrobe, using it to balance himself as he got up. His legs were shaky and he probably shouldn’t be trying to move, but he had to get to his mum, he had to tell her. He had to tell everyone, warn them of just who Atlas really was.   
  
He stumbled out of the room, hands out in front of him to stop himself from falling over. On legs that felt not quite his own, he continued to move forward.   
  
“He.. Atlas lied…. He’s.. he’s not even _Atlas_.. it’s _Fontaine_. _Frank Fontaine_ ,” he spluttered out, voicing his thoughts as he tried to collect them. “He’s supposed to be dead I… Oh god what am I gonna do?” Clayton sobbed a little, feeling both betrayal and pain stabbing him in his chest, but also a twisted sense of relief. Fontaine wasn’t dead. His dad wasn’t dead. “I can’t kill him.. I can’t he.. he’s _Atlas_ well no he’s _Fontaine_ but even that makes no difference it… I can’t do it… I should but I can’t and-.”  
  
“Clay lad, there ya’ are! Been lookin’ few ya’ near enough a dogs age!”   
  
Clayton looked up, startled to see Atlas- no, Fontaine, walking over to him. Even now he knew he still couldn’t see the man he truly was. The act was so good. The bright and friendly smile that slowly morphed into a look of honest and heartfelt concern.   
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, slowing his pace as he walked up to Clayton’s shuddering body as the boy let tears of anger and hurt fall down his face. A few sobs whacked his body and he bowed his head, he couldn’t even look at him, even when he felt the comforting hand on his shoulder. “Why ya’ cryin’ lad?”  
  
“I know,” he chocked, looking up at him and taking a few steps away, shaking the arm off his shoulder. Fontaine looked visibly confused at what he was saying. He opened his mouth to say something, but Clayton shook his head rapidly, finally coming to a stop.   
  
It felt like his feet were rooted to the floor, he couldn’t move. His arms hung by his sides, hands clenched into tight fists, his nails biting into the palm of his hands. The pain was able to ground him a little.   
  
“I know…” he sobbed, lip trembling,“I know it’s _you_ … I _know_ …”   
  
Fontaine’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the realisation flashed across his face and Clayton couldn’t do anything but stare at him. He couldn’t even make his legs listen to him and run.   
  
Eventually their staring contest came to an end with Fontaine closing his eyes and sighing sounding almost disappointed.   
  
His eyes opened and there was the cold and calculated gaze Clayton remembered from his time growing up, except the coldness was even worse now his eyes were blue. Like pools of ice.   
  
Fontaine straightened himself out and suddenly it really was Frank Fontaine standing in front of him. Everything about him, his whole demeanour and posture screamed Fontaine. The cold and calculated look with just a hint of disappointment and malice.   
  
Slowly, the man that Clayton no longer recognised and knew all too well, began to walk up to him. He couldn’t move, he was frozen under the cold gaze of Fontaine.  
  
Each step Fontaine took, the man spoke in time, his body casting a shadow over Clayton’s face as he got closer.   
  
“That’s a damn shame kid…” he said, sounding disappointed, almost like he was scolding the boy before him.   
  
Even though Clayton had just heard his voice, his _real_ voice, on the diary, it was jarring to hear it right now coming out of the mouth of Atlas. It felt _wrong_.   
  
“A real… damn… shame…”

* * *

  
_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_Reminisce:_   
  
_Atlas has some… dame helping us. Heh, ‘dame’. Word always reminds me of Mister Fontaine.. he always used to make a passing comment about- uh, anyway- no good dwelling on the past… Mister Fontaine’s dead. It’s just being back in this department store- his department store, it brings back memories. It’s funny, he was an awful man, I know that now, Atlas and my Mum told me everything but he was nice… kind to me. I never understood why, I just knew I was unique. I knew he didn’t act like that with anyone else. He… he was like the father I never had, only cause I saw him so much, I guess. I miss him. Stupid as it is, I miss him. Jesus I can almost hear the rage he’d work himself in to if Ryan sunk him in his own department store, god he’d be so mad. Probably trash his office.  
  
Anyway, yeah, there’s this dame…. Helping us… says she works for Suchong but I can’t imagine anyone that pretty workin’ for Suchong. She’s nice too, I met her and we talked for a bit. She asked me if I trusted Atlas… so confused, of course I trust him. He’s been helping us when no one else would, he saved me, he’s taught me how to shoot so I can look after myself… doesn’t treat me like a child. I’m ten years old for crying out loud, I ain’t a kid no more… I ain’t…_


	20. I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

_Morris Lauderman,_   
  
_Pennies on the Dollar:_   
  
_And before I knew it, Ryan had me bounced out of my own restaurant and that Korean had the run of the place. It was a good business, I tell you. I never shoulda told anyone about that light; about those weird buildings I saw, floatin’ in the clouds. And most of all, I never should have told no one about that girl who showed up one day… in that old-timey blue dress._

* * *

  
Frank tightened the ropes around Clayton’s wrists as he tied him to a chair. There was a gag in the boy’s mouth, but Fontaine had a pretty good idea what the kid was wishing he could say if that glare on his face was anything to go by. He’d stopped crying at least, that was a bonus.  
  
Fontaine didn’t look at him, just tied him to the chair and placed his stuff out of reach. He sighed a little, looking around his panic room a moment, before his eyes finally fell on Clayton’s face. Yep, still had that cold glare directed at him.   
  
He rose an eyebrow in response. “Don’t give me that look, kid,” he drawled. “Always knew you were too smart fer ya’ own good, but somethin’ tells me ya’ didn’t find this place on your own,” he narrowed his eyes at the boy a moment. “It was that Elizabeth wasn’t it? She found it and told ya’…” Clayton looked away and that was all the answer Frank needed. He laughed a little bitterly and shook his head. “That’s a shame. She was damn useful, special too,” he commented as he got to his feet, brushing himself down. “There’s somethin’ different about her. I can tell. She ain’t…” he paused and tilted his head trying to think of the right words. “She ain’t like everyone else. One of a kind I’d wager.”   
  
Clayton narrowed his eyes at the floor, before they flickered back to glare heatedly at Fontaine. So he was on the right track about Elizabeth and the kid seemed to know something. Maybe the woman had told Clayton and Clayton only, but Frank doubted that the kid would tell him now. He wasn’t going to hurt Clayton either, certainly wasn’t about to torture the answer out of him.  
  
“Like I said, it’s a shame. Especially since she’s the one that’s got the line on the Ace. Gonna need that if I’m gonna win,” he reached forward and ruffled Clayton’s hair, the kid flinched away from him and snarled something that Frank didn’t catch because of the gag. He laughed a little, shaking his head and looking at the kid fondly. “You’re a stubborn one aren’t ya’? Take after ya’ damn mother, which ain’t a bad thing, just means ya’ gonna be a pain in the neck for me.”   
  
Frank walked to the exit, resting his hand on a switch inside the room as he looked back at the kid. Clayton glared at him, the gaze was fiery and filled with rage. Maybe a hint of hurt and betrayal shone in his brown eyes as he looked back at him.   
  
“Stay put,” Fontaine said, pointing at him. “I don’t want you movin’, you’d only get ya’self into trouble,” he smirked a little before flicking the switch and quickly stepping out of the way. The wall went up first, followed by the table top with the three bottles that quickly turned back to their previous setting.   
  
Fontaine smirked a little, turning away from the room and heading back the base. He picked up his radio and quickly got in contact with Elizabeth. It sounded like she building something on the other side of the radio, but he wasn’t sure what. If it was his escape plan, which he was pretty certain it would be since the woman cared about the Sister, then he didn’t care. However, because she knew who he was, that also worked in his favour to a degree. It meant he didn’t have to play nice.   
  
“Any progress luv’?” He asked down the radio, keeping his Atlas voice on just in case anyone heard him in the surrounding area. “I must admit I’m becomin’ a wee bit sceptical.”  
  
“Remind me,” Elizabeth’s voice drawled. “Why should I care?”   
  
Oh she knew. The level of contempt in her voice was clear as day. He smirked, he could appreciate her sass, maybe even respect it a little. “Ya see,” he replied. “My men have taken a keen thirst fer ADAM and there’s a vintage right in front of me that’ll do nicely.”   
  
“If you hurt her, I truly hope you are happy living down here. Put down roots, raise a family or maybe you think Andrew Ryan will come to your rescue.”   
  
Okay that struck a never. It was an interesting game they were playing here, both had something that the other wanted and both of them were aware of his act. Of his lie and deception, but neither were going to call him out on it obviously. She wouldn’t risk it for Sister’s sake and Frank still had a war to win.   
  
Still, that line about Andrew Ryan had struck a never and a rather big one. He was shaking violently with rage, but he didn’t let it seep into his voice when he spoke. He was a better actor than that.   
  
“Fair enough, but remember,” he snarled into the radio. “There are some fast ways to harvest Little Sister… and some very slow ones.”   
  
He made his way back to the base, when he got there it was just as he’d left it, Em was still guarding the Sister. The idiots high on the Plasmids were still staring at the door hungrily. It made Frank a little sick, but he shook his head. The Sisters weren’t human anymore. As soon as those slugs were put in their bellies they gave up any semblance of humanity.  
  
Hours passed by, they sat mostly in silence, a few conversations popping up here and there, but they were all waiting with baited breath for their prison break.The spliced up members staring at the door and Em glaring right back at them, gun held tightly in her hand. Then O’Riley’s voice came over the radio.   
  
“Atlas! Andrew Ryan’s contacting us,” he sounded surprised and Frank was too. “Pick up the radio and tune it to frequency eight.”   
  
He obliged and cautiously held the radio up to his face, everyone was staring at him now. “Is this Ryan I’m speaking to?”  
  
“And this I believe is Atlas,” the Ryan’s voice came through, sounding pretty pleased with himself. It made Frank’s blood boil, but he kept his cool facade. “I imagine life’s been a little difficult for you these past few months.”   
  
“You could say that.”   
  
“Hm. I wanted to show you people that you could struggle along,” Ryan said, sounding all too smug with himself. “I wanted to show you that the Great Chain still moves, even for you. Why, you’re still alive after all, because you struggled against the inevitable,” Frank’s lip pulled back in a snarl as the man continued. “I believe you’ve fully learned your lesson now. You’ve seen that these ridiculous communist ideas don’t work and that the Free Market is the only way of life you need.”   
  
“So are you tryna’ tell us we should be thankin’ you fer lockin’ us down in this hell fer the past six months?” He rolled his eyes. “People have died down here, Ryan!”  
  
“The weak, the parasites who didn’t have it in them to keep going.”  
  
“Hard to keep going when someone sets ya on fire and the only people who can help ya don’t have enough medical supplies.”   
  
“Well, if you’d only followed the rules, Atlas,” Ryan replied cooly, “Then all your many followers would still be alive. Now, I have men arriving in the department store. They’re making their way to you now. I am granting you and your followers asylum. You may return to my city and now you know how to properly live and thrive, now that you know the value of the Great Chain, I’m confident you won’t be making any more mistakes.”   
  
Frank’s eyes flickered up to his followers who were all staring at him. They looked angry but also a little tempted at the idea of asylum. Fontaine wasn’t going to fall for it, knowing Ryan he’d take them back to Rapture and then execute them. He glanced to Em who was staring back at him with cold eyes.   
  
“We’ll follow your lead,” she said. “But personally, I wouldn’t trust that son of a bitch as far as I could throw him.”   
  
Thank god it wasn’t just him that was smart.   
  
He clicked the button on the radio to reply to Ryan. “You think we’re going to fall for that?” He snarled. “You’ll look all good fer the papers and the public, but as soon as you’ve got us where you want us, you’ll put a bullet in our heads.”   
  
“So you have decided to decline my offer?”  
  
“You heard that right. It would be an insult to the people we’ve lost if we put down our weapons and gave up now. We owe it to them and all the people you’ve murdered.”  
  
“Very well. If you shall not have asylum, you shall have liquidation.”   
  
The line went dead and the room was silent. The small group that remained stared at the radio as did Frank. What the hell was Ryan talking about? Liquidation? That only happened when a company was brought to and end.   
  
At this realisation Fontaine’s eyes widened a little. He had a suspicion he knew what Ryan meant by liquidation and it seemed like he wasn’t the only one, because everyone in the room suddenly looked jittery. Then the gunfire happened. They could hear it outside, they sounded like balloons being popped again and again. The rapid sound of a machine gun and a few angry screams and cries from the splicers.   
  
“We have to move, now!” He said, grabbing his pistol and checking it was loaded. Everyone scattered and began grabbing supplies, Em shut up from her seat and dashed to her son’s room. Of course, she’d think he was there and when she came back her face was pale and stricken. Quickly she ran around looking for her son, Frank knowing exactly where he was. He ordered one of his men to grab the Sister and make a run for it, try and get to the tramline, they might be able to take it to the bathysphere ports.   
  
“Atlas!” Em ran up to him. “I can’t find Clayton! I can’t find him!”  
  
“He’s probably with O’Riley and them lot,” he reasoned. “The lad knows not to go out by himself. He always takes his splicer with him, Gabriel’s not here. He must be with Clayton,” in truth Frank had noticed that the kid had been missing ages before, ordered Gabriel to go looking for him and hadn’t told Em her son was missing so she wouldn’t panic like this. Then he’d gone out and found Clayton at the Lounge, that was when he found out the kid knew who he really was. “Gabriel must be with him. He’ll be safe.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere without my son!”   
  
“I’m not asking you to, but we can’t stay here,” he argued, there was only one door between them and Ryan’s men. “We’ll find him. I promise,” Frank was already planning out the rout in his head to the Manta Ray Lounge. He’d grab the kid and keep him by his side so he couldn’t tell anyone anything. “I’ll head to Manta Ray Lounge. He might of headed over to O’Riley and those boys. Okay? I’ll check there. He might even be hiding up in the air vents right now,” he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “He’s a smart kid, he’ll be okay and we’ll find him I promise ya’.”   
  
She calmed down a little when she realised Gabriel was gone. Nodding her head, she grabbed her gun and darted towards the door. “I’ll check the bathysphere show rooms. He might be hiding in one of them.”  
  
“Alright, you two,” he pointed at two of them men. “Go with her as back up. We ain’t loosin’ that kid, ya’ hear me? The rest of you, spread out and find him, check every place on this level and make ya’ way towards bathyspheres that Ryan’s goons came here in. We can take those back to Rapture,” he attached his radio to his hip. “Ryan ain’t gonna win!”

* * *

  
Clayton’s head darted up at the sound of gun shots. He’d been busy loosening the ropes for hours, even leaning down and using his teeth to bite and pull at them. It had hurt a lot, his wrist had strained under the pressure when he stretched but he’d gradually loosened them to the point he could tug his hand out.   
  
At the gun shots he doubled his effort, paying less attention to being quiet and more attention to getting out alive. He pulled and pulled at the ropes, desperately trying to slip his right hand out. It was moving, the rope rubbed at his skin and with one final tug, he was able to rip his right hand out of his bindings. He’d given himself rope burn in the process, but he hardly noticed it, pushing the ropes off his left hand, he got to his feet. He picked up his bag and weapons, slinging his backpack on his back, gun held ready.   
  
He reached up and flicked the switch, opening up the room and he darted out. At the sound of more gunshots, he peaked round the corner and recognised Ryan’s security instantly. He hid himself in the little booth, glass was scattered all over the floor and it broke a little under his weight. Hopefully they wouldn’t hear it over the gun fire.   
  
Clayton pulled his legs close to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the gunshots and screams.   
  
Ryan had finally sent his men down to kill them all and Atlas… Atlas wasn’t real… Atlas was a lie. A mask. Atlas was a liar… he was Fontaine.   
  
Clayton shuddered at the thought yelping at a gunshot that sounded close to him and he peeked around the booth to see one of Ryan’s men walking in his direction. They hadn’t spotted him yet and he began to panic. This was where he was going to die. Right here. Right now. He’d never get to see the surface… he’d never… No. No, he was not going to die here. He’d come too far.  
  
The man’s footsteps were getting closer and Clayton forced himself to relax his breathing, make himself appear as lifeless as possible. He laced his body, but his fingers reached out and grabbed a big piece of broken glass, clutching it loosely in his hands. The footsteps drew closer and Clayton closed his eyes a little, keeping them just open so he could watch where the man would be and waited patiently.   
  
The man crouched down in front of him, reaching forward and tilted Clayton’s head up, obviously looking for any sign of life. He had a split second to act, his hand gripped the shard of glass, cutting it a little in the process and he swung it round, stabbing the man in the neck. Blood sprayed out from the force of Clayton’s strike and splattered across the boy’s face and clothing. The Ryan Security officer looked surprised, his hands reaching up to try and stop the bleeding, but it would be no use. Especially as Clayton used his strength to topple the man backwards and dragged the glass jaggedly as far as he could across the man’s throat until it broke.   
  
His hands were shaking as he shot up off the man, gripping the glass and his blood soaked hands were shaking. He slowly dropped the makeshift weapon to the floor, staring at the dead body while the blood pooled around his head. Blood ran down his face and he blinked several times, his brain trying to catch up with what he’d done.   
  
He’d never killed anyone like that. Never up close, he was always far away, so it never felt quite as real as it did now. Clayton wanted to scream, but he couldn’t because the place was crawling with Ryan security. He was surprised they hadn’t heard him attack this man.   
  
Taking a few steps backwards, he quickly bolted through the second set of doors that would’ve been used by kitchen staff to sneak through to the other side and down stairs. Cracking the door open, he peered outside, watching Ryan’s men who walked around effortlessly. They’d killed a few of Atlas’s men that seemed to have tried to make a break for Fontaine’s office.   
  
He needed to get out of here. He needed to find his mum and tell her about Fontaine.   
  
Clayton closed his eyes, before opening them and taking his crossbow out. He only had three knock out bolts left, so he’d have to use lethal rounds later. Slowly he loaded the bolts into the crossbow, taking a moment to collect himself and placed his hand on the door, ready to push it open. He paused. This wasn’t going to be like killing a splicer, these… these were people. Actual people, that man that he’d killed was a person and… it didn’t matter. They’d kill him the moment they saw him, he couldn’t afford to hesitate.  
  
Taking a deep breath in, he pushed the door open and quickly fired at the first person he saw, knocking him out instantly. Then he bolted, splashing through the water and alerting them to his presence, but there was one thing they hadn’t counted on. He was quick, quicker than most kids his age.  
  
He took his air grabber out, jumping to one of the hooks, before he fired at the two men walking along the balcony. They fell instantly and Clayton jumped down silently, running over the broken glass, the men heard and shouted but by then, he was already running down the steps, heading outside. Only thing he didn’t count on was meeting one of Ryan’s goons.   
  
The man looked just as startled to see Clayton as Clayton was to see him, but the boy didn’t hesitate like he did. With a feral scream, Clayton revved up his air grabbed and launched himself at the man, jamming the makeshift weapon into his chest. The boy kept squeezing the trigger, the air grabber continued to spin round and round, tearing into the man’s chest easily and churning up muscle and blood. It splattered across Clayton’s clothes and face, the man toppled backwards sending them both down the stairs until they hit the bottom.   
  
The boy lay there for a second on the floor, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. He spat the blood out of his mouth, scrabbling to his feet, before yanking the air grabber out of the man’s chest. In a mad dash he sprinted away from the corpse, pushing the doors of the Lounge open and running directly into two or Ryan’s men.   
  
They jumped a little but were quick to aim at him. Clayton only just managed to dive out of the way, sprinting as fast as he could before leaping off one of the many walkways to the landing below. He jumped to his feet, dodging as many of the mini gun fights as he could. Ryan’s men were clearing the place out, killing the splicers and anybody else that wasn’t them. There was even a Houdini splicer with them and he was handling the splicers like it was no problem what so ever.   
  
Clayton darted over one of the little booths they’d once used as the soup kitchen, finding two of Atlas’s dead followers on the ground, one of them held a radio in his hand.   
  
The radio!   
  
He snatched it away quickly, pulling it up to himself and yelling into the radio. His mother’s voice responded and Clayton felt relief instantly.  
  
“Clayton?! Clayton where are you?!”  
  
“I’m hiding! At the soup kitchen- ah!” He yelped as a gun shot sounded above him, his mother shrieked his name down the radio and he quickly responded. “I’m okay! I’m okay! Mum, I need to tell you something!”  
  
“Later,” she said. “We have to find you and get out of here!”   
  
“It’s important!”  
  
“Clayton, Ryan’s men are here to kill us all we have to- shit!” His mother swore and the line went dead.   
  
“Mum?! Mum?!” Clayton screamed desperately down the radio, his lips trembling as his mind raced with the worse cases, but he quickly shook his head. No his mother was stronger than that. His mother wouldn’t be dead he… he needed to find Fontaine. He needed to find him.   
  
Suddenly the radio sprang to life again, but this time, it was that fake Irish accent that came through it. Fontaine wasn’t even speaking to him, he was talking to Elizabeth.   
  
“Sounds like all hell’s breaking loose out there! What’s your plan?”  
  
“I can’t just place the particle in the ceiling, it would just tear right through it,” Elizabeth replied, “But, every building in Rapture was submerged into the ocean on a lunette ring connected to the junction of its load bearing supports.”  
  
“That’s fascinatin’ and all…” Fontaine’s irritated voice came through, even with the Irish accent still in place, he sounded more like the man Clayton remembered, “but if you haven’t noticed, Ryan’s sent his goons to murder us! If you’re gonna pull a rabbit out of a hat.. now’s the time to do it.”  
  
“Looks like the structural junction is in Frank Fontaine’s office. If I can get there, I can float the building.”   
  
“It so happens I’ve taken that bastards office for me own use. I’ll make sure you’ve access to the private elevator. Now hurry!”   
  
The line went dead, but hearing Atlas’s voice. Hearing the lies. It only fuels Clayton’s anger. He gripped the radio tightly in his hand, it was a good thing it was made out of strong stuff, the boy was so angry he felt like he’d be able to crush it. A rage washed over him like he’d never felt before and he had one thing on his mind.   
  
He was going to _kill_ Frank Fontaine.   
  
Clayton got to his feet and ran back outside, using the air grabber, he was able to get himself up high on one of the signs. He took out his sniper rifle and began firing at Ryan’s men, taking them out while he scanned the crowd for Fontaine. The people that blindly followed Frank didn’t deserve to die in his war, so he’d save as many as he could.   
  
As he was shooting, he spotted Elizabeth and took out the two Ryan Security guards blocking her path. She looked up, her eyes landing on him and gave him a grateful nod, which he returned. Then she disappeared into the Manta Ray Lounge and Clayton went back to scanning the crowd and shooting.   
  
He finally spotted Atlas making a break for it, no doubt heading to the bathyspheres that Ryan’s men had used and Clayton was quickly chasing after him. He ran along the sign until he got to the very end, jumping and using his moment and the sky hook to slam into one of Ryan’s men. Killing the security personnel the same way he’d killed the man on the stairs, splattering more blood over himself.   
  
The warm blood ran down his face, but the boy hardly noticed it now, he only had one goal in mind. As he ran he came across more of Atlas’s followers dead, pausing only a brief moment to loot them. He walked away with a few of the flash bangs he’d made, a few trap bolts, a buck knife and a proximity mine. He stuffed the flash bangs in his pockets, same with the trap bolts, though he loaded one into his crossbow. The mine he stuffed into his backpack, with the radio attached to his hip, he fixed the knife there too and continued to run.   
  
Some of Ryan’s men spotted him and began firing, but Clayton weaved and ducked, running down a flight of stairs, where he fired his trap bolt across the top. Running to the bottom he pulled the mine out and stuck it to the floor at the bottom of the stairs before running once more.   
  
He turned a corner and heard the brief screams and the explosion behind him, his trap had worked. They under estimated him, just like people always did because he was a kid, but he wasn’t a stupid kid either.   
  
Running past a dead splicer, he snatched her hand cannon and looted her bullets, loading the gun as he ran. His heart was hammering in his chest as he made his way through the dead splicers, a few would be left, but he took them out easily with the hand cannon. The ones that had survived Ryan’s men were weak and tired, their Plasmids practically drained. They never stood a chance against a surprise attack.   
  
Eventually Clayton made it to the bathyspheres and there was Fontaine, with two of his men. They would only get in his way and wordlessly the boy, raised the hand cannon again. He fired two shots, hitting both in the back of the head and they fell to the floor, Fontaine span around, pistol raised and froze. The man’s eyes widened with surprise and maybe even slight horror shining in them.   
  
Clayton slowly walked up to him, his hands were shaking as he held the gun tightly in his hand, sucking air through his teeth. The blood dripped down his face and all the boy could smell was copper.   
  
Fontaine looked him up and down, holding his hands up as a show of no harm, but Clayton knew better now.   
  
“You son of a bitch!” He shouted at him, the gun shaking in his hands. “Are you happy?! Is this what you wanted?!”   
  
“Clayton-.”  
  
“They’re dead! Everyone’s dead because of you!”   
  
Fontaine looked down at the two bodies next to him and gestured to them. “I’m pretty certain that was you, kid.”   
  
“Shut up!”  
  
“Put the gun down,” Fontaine said to him, putting his own gun away in the waist band of his jeans. “You ain’t got no reason to be shooting me, Clayton, I saved your life, remember?”  
  
“You got everyone else killed!” Clayton snapped, angry tears falling down his face, leaving rivers of clean skin in an ocean of red. “You lied to me! You tricked me!”   
  
“Wasn’t easy. Tricking or lying to you,” the man replied, taking a few steps towards him. “But seeing you now… you and me,” he gestured between himself and Clayton. “We ain’t so different.”  
  
“I’m _nothing_ like you!”  
  
“Really?” He looked amused. “You broke free of your bounds, killed anyone who got in your way without hesitation, all so you could get revenge and kill me,” he tilted his head and smirked. “Tell me, who does that remind you of?”   
  
“S-shut up!” Clayton screamed, pulling the hammer back on the hand cannon. “I’m nothing like you! _Nothing_!”   
  
“Yes you are,” Fontaine replied without hesitation. “You and me, we’re family. We’re so alike, don’t you see that?”   
  
The ground shook and rumbled beneath them suddenly, pieces of the building crumbled and things toppled over. The two of them were struggling to stand upright, but after leaving in the department store and dealing with this the first time round, both stayed on their feet easily.   
  
“It’s working!” Elizabeth’s voice came through the radio on Fontaine’s hip. “Atlas you feel that? Now you have your prison break. Now bring me the girl.”  
  
Everything came to a sudden shuddering holt and Clayton fell to the ground, but Fontaine was able to keep himself up by using the bathysphere. He pushed away from it and quickly snatched the radio from his hip, stalking up to Clayton and kicking the gun away from the boy’s hands.   
  
“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to put your faith in strange, foreign men?” He drawled into the radio, looking down at Clayton as he said it, making the boy unsure as to who he was speaking to in that moment.   
  
“Just give me the girl,” Elizabeth snarled over the radio. “She means nothing to you.”   
  
“You’ve got that right. The girl means nothin’, but you luv’- you mean the world…” he shut off the radio and grabbed Clayton, yanking the boy to his feet and pushing him towards the bathysphere.   
  
“Let me go!” He yelled. “Let me go, you lying son of bitch!”  
  
“Watch ya mouth, kid,” Frank snapped pushing the boy inside the bathysphere before joining him. He pulled the lever and the sphere sank, he grabbed his radio again, lifting it to his mouth. “Em? Em, darlin’ can ya’ hear me?”  
  
“Atlas?” His mother’s voice came through the radio, it was crackling and it sounded like her radio had been damaged. “Atlas? Have you seen Clayton? He was by the soup kitchen but-.”  
  
“The lad’s with me,” he said. “We’re in a bathysphere right now, head on over, all of you. There’s plenty of spheres left, we’re gettin’ out of this place.”  
  
“Oh thank god…” she breathed. “We’re heading to the spheres now. C-can I speak to my son?”  
  
“Of course,” he replied, putting a hand on Clayton’s shoulder as a warning, before handing him the radio.   
  
“Mum?” Clayton called over the radio and he heard his mother’s sigh of relief.  
  
“Oh thank god… Clayton, Clayton, søntos are you okay? I’ve been so worried! Where did you go- I.. oh, that doesn’t matter, are you okay!?”   
  
“I’m.. I’m okay,” he nodded his head, glaring up at Fontaine. “Atlas saved me. We’re heading back to Rapture.”  
  
“Thank god… I’ll see you soon, søntos. We’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise we’re going to be okay. I love you so much!”  
  
“I love you too, mum,” he whispered back, Fontaine held his hand out for the radio. “I’ll see you soon, I’m passing you back to Atlas… I love you mum! I love you so much!”  
  
“I love you too, søntos! So, so much!”   
  
Frank took the radio back and held it up to his mouth. “I’ll get the lad somewhere safe. We have plenty o’ safe houses around Rapture. I’ll put him somewhere Ryan don’t know about.”  
  
“Thank you, Atlas.”   
  
“No problem, luv’. The boy’s like the son I never had,” he said, looking down at Clayton as he said it. “I wouldn’t ever let anythin’ happen to him. We’ll meet ya’ back at Rapture. Make sure you’ve got that bomb with ya’, think it’s time fer us to join in the celebrations don’t you?”   
  
He put the radio to his hip, turning to look at Clayton as they floated away from the department store. From the outside, you could see gun shots and going off. Ryan’s men and the splicers fighting each other, soon more bathyspheres began to float away from the building.  
  
Clayton looked at his reflection before he looked down at his blood covered hands. They were shaking as he stared down at them, coated in crimson and caked up his bomber jacket coat sleeves, staining the once white fur, red.   
  
“Look at you,” Fontaine drawled and the boy looked up at him, gaze cold and angry, but Fontaine only smirked. “You’re all grown up,” he went on, looking him up and down his blood soaked form. “I’m proud of you, kid.”  
  
“What? Because now we aren’t so different?” He spat, glaring at him. “If we’re alike, that means there’s something of me in you. That means,” Clayton continued, turning to face him properly as they floated towards a bathysphere port. “That there is some good in you. Some compassion, somewhere.”  
  
Fontaine narrowed his eyes at him. “I said we’re _alike_ ,” he snarled, leaning into his personal space so he could glare down at the kid. “I never said we were the _same_.”   
  
He looked away from Fontaine and scowled at the floor angrily, closing his eyes a moment and swallowing. “What are you going to do to Elizabeth?”   
  
“Like her don’t ya?”  
  
“She’s…” Clayton turned away from him. “She’s a good person. She’s special… I.. you don’t even know how special she is, Fontaine.”   
  
“But you do,” he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Who is she?”   
  
Clayton reached up and gently touched the broach she’d pinned to his jacket. Miraculously it had stayed in place. “Even I don’t fully understand who she is…” he whispered, turning to glare at him. “What are you going to do to her?”   
  
“Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you, kid.”  
  
“This does concern me, I-.”   
  
“Let me rephrase that. Don’t worry about things that you don’t want to know the answer to,” Fontaine glared at him a moment, he stuffed his hand in his pocket a moment, looking down at the boy. “Now. I ain’t gonna kill ya, kid. I told you, I care about ya’. Managed to work ya way under my skin.”   
  
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Clayton snarled and Frank laughed.   
  
“Yeah, you are a bit of an inconvenience, but ya my kid,” he fixed him with a look. “And so long as I’m around, ain’t nobody touchin’ my kid, but I know what ya’ like,” he reached out and pulled the boy close, quickly smothering his mouth and nose with cloth that had a sickly sweet smell. “You’re a stubborn little bastard, but I need to get ya’ somewhere safe and you causin’ problems ain’t gonna help that.”   
  
Clayton struggled, clawing at his hand desperately. He knew what the stuff would do, it would knock him out cold. His eyes grew heavy and his hands slipped away from Fontaine’s arms. Slowly the world tilted as he began to fall to the side, but Frank bent down, removing the cloth from his face. He slipped his back pack and sniper off him, slipping his now free arm under Clayton’s knees and scooping him up in his arms, resting the boy’s head on his shoulder.   
  
The boy’s eyes fluttered and fought to stay open, but he eventually succumbed to the drugs. Not before sending one final glare at Fontaine, who smiled fondly at him, then his eyes slipped shut and stayed closed.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_We got out:_   
  
_We got out, we got out of that damn department store. Some woman helped us, used to work for Suchong apparently. Atlas says she’s the key to finding the weapon that’s going to help us win this war! Clayton is somewhere safe, in one of the many safe houses we have scattered around the city, Atlas told me he wanted him as far away from the violence as possible. I agree, I don’t want Clayton to be part of the violence. In the department store there was only a few of us, we had no choice, even though I tried to protect him. I tried to keep him away, but in that place that was only putting him in more danger._   
  
_He needed to learn how to shoot, otherwise he wouldn’t of been able to defend himself agains a splicer, but here? Well, there’s more of us here, we don’t need Clayton to get involved in any more death. I have to keep him safe and save what little innocence he has left. In a place like Rapture, however, I’m starting to think that innocence is wasted, it might not even exist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're back on for BAS storyline. I never wanted to change the storyline, just change the start, because to me Frank would've conned Elizabeth at first. He wouldn't of threatened her. 
> 
> Also the way Atlas is written he's written like Fontaine not Atlas, so I changed that until he knew that Elizabeth had worked out who he was. BAS Atlas was always written a lot crueler in my opinion than BS1 Atlas, so I tried to write him more in line with BS1 and then work to BAS version of him, while keeping the dialogue virtually the same. 
> 
> The end goal is still the same as BAS end goal, so that's not changed.
> 
> My poor baby Clayton though. I guess with a father figure like Fontaine, can't expect much else....


	21. Masquerade

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_Sad Saps:_   
  
_These sad saps. They come to Rapture thinking they’re gonna be captains of industry, but they all forget that somebody’s gotta sub the toilets. What an angle they gave me… I hand these mugs a cot and a bowl of soup, and they give me their lives. Who needs an army when I got Fontaine’s Home for the Poor?_

* * *

  
The Kashmir’s annual New Years Eve masquerade event was underway. People and couples were sat in their seats, a few were dancing and a band played on a little stage. Banners and streamers with a few party hats littered the place, the seats were all filled with guests, quite a few people were standing and chatting excitedly amongst themselves.   
  
Opal and Daniel were sat out of the way, masks on and sharing a drink. Both of them had their guns on them, hidden away in Opal’s purse or in Daniel’s case his inside jacket pocket. They were seated on the balcony overlooking the seating area below, surrounding the Atlas statue in the centre. The seating area where the Atlas statue sat had huge glass panelling, allowing whoever that was sitting down a chance to look out and observe the stunning view around them. The statue of Atlas held the world on its back with glowing lettering ringed around it saying “O’ Rise Rapture Rise” just like the anthem for the city.   
  
A few people Daniel and Opal both recognised. Bill was here with his wife Elaine and Diane was here by herself. No surprise on that front, she was sitting at her seat sobbing quietly into a glass of vodka.   
  
It was two minutes to midnight, Daniel glanced down at his watch and then looked around at all the other party goers, who all seemed excited for the new year, but he wasn’t. He was planning a way to get him and Opal and her sister out of this city. He just had to come up with a plan and then whisper it to his wife so they wouldn’t get find out by Ryan. He had no doubt that the paranoid son of a bitch had hidden cameras near enough everywhere.   
  
He looked across the table at his wife who was staring at the Atlas statue with a thoughtful look on her face. Daniel reached across the table and gently took her hand, squeezing it gently. She looked back at him and smiled, he returned it with a smile of his own. Glancing down at his watch he looked at the time.   
  
“Only a minute to go.”   
  
“Oh thank god,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I can stand another minute of being social with these people.”   
  
He laughed softly and nodded his head. “Yeah I know what you mean,” he glanced over to see Ryan’s men by the door, one of them was talking on their shortwave radio, presumably having a conversation. A few places all around Rapture had hired security to guard their restaurant and bar business. Mostly from any rogue splicer that may be in the city still and not sent down to the department store.   
  
The countdown began, Opal reached her other hand across the table and took his other hand. She smiled at him, eyes lidded and even though these past few months, hell, this past year had been tough, she was still able to smile. Still held that light in her eyes that never seemed to die, no matter what life threw at her. Daniel was in awe of her strength.   
  
“Happy New Year!”   
  
“Happy New Year, angel,” he whispered leaning across the table and she met him in the middle, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was a beautiful and blissful moment, which was abruptly ended by a shockwave and a huge explosion.   
  
Opal and Daniel were thrown backwards, he hit his head hard, his ears were ringing and the sounds around him were muffled. He only had one thing on his mind and that was his wife.   
  
Shakily he sat up, seeing the couple who’d been seated behind his wife had not been so lucky. They must of gotten the brunt of explosion and as his vision cleared he could see that part of the statue had flown into them, crushing them and mostly likely killing them instantly. People were running around and screaming, trying to get to the exits and then he saw some of the waiters and waitresses pull out guns and mercilessly killing or shooting anyone they could.   
  
“Long live Atlas!”  
  
“Death to Ryan!”  
  
“Long live Atlas!”   
  
Daniel frantically began looking for Opal, trying to get to his feet and hissing in pain. He looked down at his leg and saw a piece of metal from the statue had embedded itself in his shin. A shadow fell over him and he looked up, only to find a barrel of a gun aimed directly at his head. He swallowed and looked past the gun to find the cold eyes of one of Atlas’s followers staring down at him with nothing but contempt in his eyes.   
  
He wasn’t going to look away, he was going to stare this bastard down. God he hoped Opal was okay, he hoped she’d get out and she’d run far away from here.  
  
Daniel jumped at the gunshot, but it wasn’t the Atlas followers gun, the follower had been shot in the head and fell backwards. He looked behind him to see Opal standing with her pistol out and the barrel smoking. A cut was along her forehead, her hair was tussled and it had fallen out of her fancy up do she’d put it in, and her dress was a little torn, but she otherwise looked okay.   
  
“Get the hell away from my, husband,” she snarled before quickly running to his side, eyes filled with concern and looking down at his leg. “Oh my god, baby, are you okay?”  
  
Daniel was staring at her like she held the moon. “I love you…” he said, a smile twitching at his lips despite everything, he looked down at his leg. “You need to pull it out.”   
  
Opal nodded and reached for it, tugging the metal out and Daniel yelled. She tore at her dress, ripping off a big strip or fabric, using it as a makeshift bandage, she rolled it several times around her leg. Tying it off, Opal then helped him to his feet. They quickly began making a mad dash towards the exit like everyone else, Daniel even forced himself to run.   
  
Gunfire was sounding off all around them and then a new explosion ripped through the air, causing the ground to shake and they fell to the floor. Daniel quickly got to his feet, wincing as his leg screamed in agony at him, but he held his hand down for Opal helping her up. Another follower charged at them, but Daniel pulled his gun out and shot him twice in the chest. The blood exploded across his shirt and a little bit splattered across his face.   
  
The husband and wife sprinted as quickly as they could towards the exit, just like the other partiers were trying, those who weren’t getting shot. They ran out the exit to the welcome centre, one of the store owners from the other side lay dead at the entrance to his shop, the blood pooled around him and it coated the windows of his store.   
  
They called an elevator quickly, the one that arrived held a dead body in it, which was slumped over and blood coated the inside of the elevator. The expensive suit he’d been wearing was stained crimson, multiple bullet holes littered his chest. It looked like he’d been shot with a machine-gun. His mask was still resting on his face.   
  
Opal gasped and stepped away, while Daniel reached forward, pulling the body out. He heard his wife shoot back at the restaurant, obviously a few of Atlas’s followers were trying to kill off anyone that might have escaped their wrath. He looked over to see a woman running out, dressed in her best, clearly terrified, but that meant little to the followers. They lit her up with machine-gun fire and she fell to the floor, coughing and spitting up blood.   
  
Daniel quickly grabbed Opal’s hand and pulled her inside the elevator, slamming his fist to the buttons and they began to go down. He held onto her tightly as the levels passed by them, all around he could hear the sound of gun fire and screams. A few more shockwaves hit them from other explosions, the ceiling shook and a few pieces of debris crumbled away.   
  
“When the doors open,” Daniel said. “We’re gonna have to bolt, got it?”   
  
“Okay…” she nodded and he kissed her forehead.   
  
The cheerful ding of the elevator felt like starting line gunshot and the two of them bolted. Daniel gripped Opal’s hand tightly as they ran, a few bullets wizzed past them from machine guns, but thankfully none of them hit them. One grazed Daniel’s cheek but he hardly noticed it.   
  
They ran quickly to the Rapture metro, Ryan’s security agents ran past them, all carrying machine guns or shot guns. Everything flew past them, it was a blur as Daniel ran, feeling more like muscle memory as they sprinted towards the Rapture metro station. He barely registered other people dead on the floor, a mixture of high class and lower class. He only took a breath when they were safely in a bathysphere and Daniel pulled the lever, sending them into the Atlantic Ocean.

* * *

  
Kyburz, Kelly and Pablo looked around confused as the lights in the bar shook, a few other patrons also looked confused and then they could hear screams from below, gun shots rang out along side them. An explosion sounded and made the whole bar shake.   
  
The elevator that lead up to the bar, the Satyre, opened, the waiter was standing in front of it like he was supposed to be to great people. He was frozen in place much like everyone else at the sounds of screams. The elevator dinged and the door opened, the waiter turned only to be greeted by a grinning splicer.   
  
“Hello chum!” It cackled, swinging its fish hooks and slitting the waiters throat, the blood gushed, staining the waiters white tux a deep crimson. The splicer cackled and jumped over him, running off to attack someone else.   
  
The rest of the elevator’s occupants came streaming out, guns firing and killing the first people they came across. One woman tried to make a mad dash to the elevator only to get a shotgun blast to the face. Her whole head exploded like some sort of macabre firework, blood went flying everywhere. The patrons were screaming and running out the other set of doors leading onto High Street.   
  
Kyburz, Kelly and Pablo were already sprinting away running from the gun shots and the attackers.  
  
“Long live Atlas!” One screamed that came charging at them, but Pablo snapped his fingers and the man was instantly set ablaze. He dropped his gun and began screaming, running away as a ball of frame.   
  
Pablo quickly picked up the shotgun that the man had dropped, checking it and looking to Kyburz angrily. “Get ya’ fuckin’ gun out you idiot!” Kyburz slipped his hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulled his revolver out.   
  
Cohen’s bunch that had once been standing on their platforms dancing, were now all banging on the door, begging to be let in, pleading with Cohen to open the door and let them in where it was safe.   
  
“Call yourselves artists!?” One of the followers screamed, a Molotov in hand. “You’re murders! Murderers and Perverts!” He tossed the Molotov despite the performers begging him not to and it smashed above them, coating them in alcohol, which quickly caught fire. The follower that had frown it turned around and Kelly gasped her hand coming to cover her mouth as she saw who it was.   
  
O’Riley stared at her, eyes wide and looking panicked. He opened his mouth and made a move towards her, but stopped when Pablo and Kyburz raised the guns in their hands at him. O’Riley raised his machine gun, pointing it back at them. His teeth was grit and he was trying his damndest to stare them down. Kyburz’s hand was shaking and Kelly took a step towards O’Riley getting between the men.   
  
“Why did you do that?” She whispered. “They were innocent people!”   
  
“They worked for Cohen!” He snarled back. “They weren’t innocent!”  
  
“You worked for Fontaine!” Kelly argued back at him. “Does that make you guilty?! Does that make me Guilty?!”   
  
O’Riley’s face softened and he looked down, his gun lowering and she walked to him. Gently placing her hand on his scarred side of his face. The man closed his eyes and reached a hand up to gently cup her own.   
  
“You’ve seen too many wars..” She whispered. “Don’t be a part of this one…”   
  
“I can’t not be,” he whispered back, sounding sad and apologetic. “I’ve got no choice. Ryan didn’t give us a choice, neither did Fontaine. I’ve got to do this, Kelly.”  
  
“Why?”   
  
He sighed and stepped away from him. “Because Atlas is my only hope of having a normal life. I’d give anything for that. Anything! I might… I might even be able to get my face back,” he touched his scarred face. “I can get it back… and be normal.”   
  
“You are normal!” Kelly cried, staring at him. She reached for him again, but O’Riley backed away, shaking his head.   
  
“No. No I’m not,” he looked up at her pleadingly, the gunshots fired around them and screams could be heard. Pablo looked back seeing more of the followers making their way outside now that they’d cleared out the bar.   
  
“We gotta go!” He cried taking a few steps backwards. “Kelly, c’mon, we gotta leave!”  
  
“He’s right,” O’Riley said. “They’ll shoot you. Go.”   
  
“O’Riley…”  
  
“Go, Kelly, now! Run!” He said taking a few steps backwards, turning around firing at a couple who tried to sneak by him. “I said run, now get out of here!”   
  
Kyburz took her hand and pulled her backwards, urging her to run as they followed Pablo who lead them towards another elevator. Kelly looked back at O’Riley who was mercilessly shooting anyone he came across, reloading his machine gun and firing at another couple that bolted past him or at least tried to.   
  
They sprinted as fast as they could to the elevator, passing a few shops that were being vandalised and one of the shop keepers was tossed through a window, where splicers pounced on him and began beating him to death. The three ran past and tried to ignore the chaos around them as they managed to make it to the elevator, quickly climbing inside and when one of Atlas’s followers tried to follow them, a bloody pipe raised above his head, Pablo shot him with the shotgun. The man was flung backwards, his chest had been ripped open from the blast and the door closed on that scene, before opening on Market street to a blood bath.   
  
People were lying on the floor, scattered everywhere, dead. Blood coated the floor, pooling around the bodies. A few people were running out of the apartments that were situated there, but you could see the gun shots being fired inside. A room would be lit up briefly with machine gun fire or a shotgun blast. One of the shotgun blasts sent a person out of their window and they fell to the floor in front of the trio.   
  
They quickly ran around the body, Kelly glanced at the Little Wonders Educational facility, hearing screams and gun shots inside the building. Some of the screams were clearly the cries of little girls and she slowed to a stop, desperately pointing.   
  
“The children!” She cried, turning to the two men pleadingly. “The children- we, we can’t just.. we can’t just leave them!”   
  
Kyburz glanced to Pablo who shook his head and the Aussie sighed. “Kelly we have to keep moving. Get somewhere safe!”  
  
“They’re children!” Kelly cried, but the man grabbed her hand pulling her along.   
  
“I’m sorry, we can’t!”   
  
“But they’re just children! They’re just little girls, they haven’t done anything wrong!”  
  
“Ryan’s security will be guarding them,” Pablo yelled as they continued to run. “You think Ryan’s gonna let one of his biggest assets be unguarded?! They’re probably safer than us!”   
  
“Kelly come on!” Kyburz urged and they ran away from the scene, quickly darting through an employees only area.   
  
A few more explosions shook the building they were in. They ran to the service elevator, finding Sinclair of all people already inside, he had a cut across his forehead and his suit was ruined. A gun was firmly clasped in one hand which was shaking violently and he was staring at the floor, his eyes glassy and wide.   
  
“Sinclair!” Pablo yelled and the man’s head shot up to stair at them. “Hold the door!”  
  
“Sinclair please!” Kelly screamed as they ran and the doors began to shut. “Please hold the door!”   
  
Thankfully, Sinclair did, wedging himself between the door so it couldn’t shut. The three quickly darted inside and Sinclair stepped back allowing the doors to close. Shakily he reached for the fuse box and took out the fuses, making the elevator stop and the emergency light to come back on.   
  
Kyburz looked at him questionably and Sinclair held the fuses up.   
  
“This way we’re safe…” he reasoned.   
  
“Oh yeah?” Pablo snapped, snatching the fuses from him and sticking them back in, turning the elevator back on. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t consider safe to be a tiny box suspended over a great height!”   
  
Kelly was sitting on the floor, she’d taken her heels off and now rested her head in her hands. Above her the men begin to bicker and argue. Sinclair wanted to stay hidden in the service elevator, Kyburz wanted to go back and check for survivors and Pablo wanted to run away. Kelly was leaning more towards Pablo’s idea.  
  
She stood up and pressed one of the buttons, sending the elevator down. The three men looked startled as the elevator began moving, turning to look at her while she rested her head against the panelling of the elevator.   
  
“I just want to go home..” She sobbed. “I just want to go home. Please.”   
  
They fell quiet and the elevator ride down. Neither moved or spoke. When the elevator finally came to stop and they pocked their heads out cautiously, they could see the carnage Atlas’s followers had left behind. People were dead on the floor in another high rise area. A few of them were Atlas’s followers, most were upper class citizens of Rapture. Men, women, horrifyingly a few children too. The followers had sprinted through firing and killing anyone they came across, caring little for who it was they were killing. Even if they were innocent of never doing them any wrong.   
  
The group of four picked their way through the dead bodies, quietly making their way through the carnage and rubble that littler the streets, trailing bloody footprints behind them. Kelly had her arms wrapped around her as she followed them, staying close to Kyburz who had his revolver held high, readying to shoot at anyone that attacked them.  
  
A few more explosions went off outside and inside the building, Kelly looked out into the night sea to watch a few of the explosions going off in other areas of Rapture. They looked like all the high rise areas, the places that the rich most frequented, but they seemed to be dying down now. The attacks were getting less as were the explosions.   
  
It looked like Atlas’s army, because you couldn’t call them anything else now, were retreating back to whatever hole they’d crawled out of. Good riddance. Kelly had felt sorry for them at first, she couldn’t feel sorry for them after this. After everything they’d done, they weren’t fighting for the people, they were killing whoever they wanted. There was no consideration, no thought or reason, just mindless murder.   
  
They pushed another door open, seeing a man running away only to be shot in the back twice. He fell to the ground and then his killer walked up behind him and shot him in the head without a second glance.   
  
Kelly’s eyes widened as it had taken her a moment to recognise who this person was and she opened her mouth to say something, but Kyburz beat her to it.   
  
“Em?”   
  
The woman froze a moment, her best friend, a person Kelly couldn’t recognise, turned to look at them. Her head hair was around her face, she had a graze across her forehead and her clothing was tattered and torn. Blood was splattered across it, both old and new, her eyes had dark circles under them and they were bloodshot. Her gaze was steady and cold as she looked back at them, not seeming to recognise them at first, but she blinked and then the recognition was there.   
  
Emilie lowered her gun and stood up straight, staring back at her friends with wide eyes as they stared back at her equally as shocked.   
  
Kelly quickly ran up to her and placed her hands on her shoulders, looking her best friend over. She was blinking back tears and Em had tensed under her hold, but she didn’t care. Kelly quickly pulled her best friend into a hug, holding her close and Em stood stiffly in her arms.  
  
“I thought you were dead! I thought… oh thank god, thank god you’re okay! I missed you, I missed you so much!”   
  
The stiffness left Em’s body and she sagged almost in relief into Kelly’s hold, wrapping her arms around her. The humanity seeped back into her body and Em began to sob into Kelly’s shoulder, holding her just as tightly like a life line.   
  
Em pulled back first wiping her eyes with her bloody hands. “So- sorry about the smell,” she choked out a laugh and Kelly laughed along with her. “Just…” she continued. “There was no showers in the department store…”   
  
“I’m so glad you’re okay…”   
  
“I’m okay…” Em nodded. “I’m better then okay… I… Kelly, you’re not going to believe it, but-.”  
  
“Em, luv? Where are ya’ darlin’?” An Irish accent came from down the corridor Em had ran down and then a man appeared looking just as battered as Em did. His gun was raised and pointed at them warningly, but Em quickly ran over and shook her head.   
  
“It’s okay, Atlas, these are my friends,” she assured, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.   
  
Atlas. This was Atlas, the man who’d done all this. Who was responsible for all this death and murder.   
  
He looked them over and turned back to Em. “We have to go, my love,” he said and Kelly heard Kyburz suck in a breath behind her and her heart went out to him. It was clear what the relationship between Atlas and Em was. “Ryan’s men are comin’ we have to head back to base.”  
  
“Okay,” she nodded and he quickly took her hand pulling her away from them.   
  
“Em!” Kelly shouted desperately and mercilessly Atlas stopped, Em and himself both looking back at her.  
  
Emilie let go of his hand and ran over to Kelly pulling her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly. “I’ll try to see you again, I promise!” She said. “I promise.”  
  
“Em, we gotta go, luv’!”   
  
She pulled away, despite Kelly not really letting go and quickly ran back to Atlas, taking his hand and the two disappeared down the corridor. Kelly stared after her, looking back at Kyburz who looked like a man who had just had his heart broken. Pablo reached forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, looking just as stunned by the whole event as Kelly felt. Sinclair on the other hand held a thoughtful look on his face and then something seemed to go off on his head, a smile twitching at his lips.   
  
“Well I’ll be…” he mumbled staring almost with a look of great respect at the corridor that Atlas and Em had ran down.   
  
“What?” Kelly asked him.   
  
He glanced at her a moment, before shaking his head. “Not important. C’mon, let’s go. We best find Ryan security.”

* * *

  
“To Atlas!” O’Riley cheered holding a beer up high and several more bottles were raised, with a few wine glasses and bottles of wine along with them.   
  
They were in the poor house and celebrating escaping the department store and attacking Ryan’s oh so precious Rapture. Giving the rich a taste of what they’d had to deal with for years. People cheered encouragingly, Atlas sat at the back with Em next to him, limey on the other side with her tea cup, a smile on her face.   
  
People began calling for a speech, banging on the table excitedly and Atlas laughed holding his hands up to silence them as he got to his feet, lifting up his own bottle of beer.   
  
“This is only the beginin’!” The Irishman declared proudly. “We’ve gone and got Ryan on the run now! We’ve shown them what we’re capable of! We’ve shown them that we will accept no negotiations! We will accept no bribes! We deserve a fair shake and if Ryan isn’t willing to give us that after tonight, then we’ll just have to take it!”   
  
Cheers rose up amongst the ground people clapping excitedly and dinner was served for them all. It was the good stuff, after they’d shot up the kitchens, they’d robbed their pantries, grabbing their food and cooking it back at the poor house. It was the best meal any of them had had in a long time. No more tinned food or canned goods, it was all fresh and seasoned.   
  
“This is the beginning of a new era!” Atlas continued. “The era of the workingman! We’ll set Rapture to right, we’ll put it back to how it was supposed to be! A utopia for all and not just a lucky few who dance to Andrew Ryan’s bloody tune! Tonight is the beginning of the end to Ryan’s rain of tyranny! To his reign of terror! Tonight we begin to change history in Rapture!”   
  
People clapped and banged on the table excitedly, cheering Atlas’s name, soon it became a chant that rose up across the whole poor house and around the table and room they’d set up.  
  
“You thank me, lads and lasses, you cheer my name, but I couldn’t do it without ya’!” He said, rising his drink high, a smile on his face. “Here’s to you all and the victory we’ll reap! We are the future of Rapture! A toast to you all!”   
  
They cheered and cried out, clinking their glasses and bottles together and Atlas sat down, clinking his own drink with Em and winking at her. She smiled back at him, leaning in and kissing him softly and he returned it just as gently.  
  
“You promise Clayton’s safe?” She asked as she pulled away.   
  
Atlas smiled and nodded.“He’s in the safest place in this city. No one will think to look fer him there, luv’ and he’s guarded. It’s the best safe house we have, even Ryan don’t know about it.”  
  
“And he’s far away from the war? He won’t have to fight or kill anyone?”  
  
“No luv’. He’ll never have to raise a gun again in his life. He’s safe and warm, he’s got food and guards. No one will find him, I promise you,” he leaned in and kissed her softly again. “You can send him a letter threw the phneumo if ya’ like.”  
  
“Why can’t I see him?” She frowned at him.   
  
Atlas blinked. “Of course you can, it’s just we’re gonna be busy luv’. This war has only just kicked off and Ryan’ll double security. I don’t want to run the risk of us leading him to Clayton.”   
  
She pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. “You have a point there. Ryan wouldn’t hesitate to have him killed,” she closed her eyes and sighed. “I just.. I just want to hold him. I want to hold him in my arms and tell him everything’s going to be okay.”  
  
“I’m sure he knows darlin’,” he assured. “But I understand. I miss him too. He should be here, celebrating with us.”   
  
“He should be…” she whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Look at me, bringing down the mood.”  
  
“You’re worried about ya’ son, angel,” Atlas soothed. “That’s not bringin’ down the mood. It’s understandable,” he reached down and took her hand giving it a squeeze. “He’s safe, I promise you.”  
  
Em nodded her head and smiled. “I trust you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand back. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”   
  
“Since we are supposed to be celebrating…” Em began coyly, looking down at the table, before looking back and him and smirking. “You think I could borrow you to celebrate in private?”   
  
Atlas grinned back at her. “Well, I don’t see why not,” he winked at her, downing the rest of his beer, before taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to his room.   
  
Unknown to Em, Clayton was a lot closer than she thought. Tucked and hidden away in Fontaine’s abandoned and dust filled penthouse in Mercury Suites, Clayton was furiously banging on the door, screaming angrily and calling for help. His desperate and angry cries went unanswered, however. Only echoing around the apartment and were unheard by all of Rapture.

* * *

  
_Diane McClintock,_   
  
_New Year’s Eve Alone:_   
  
_Diane: Another New Year’s, another night alone. I’m out, and you’re stuck in Hephestus, working. Imagine my surprise. I just guess I’ll have another drink… here’s a toast to Diane McClintock, silliest girl in Rapture. Silly enough to fall in love with Andrew Ryan, silly enough to- (Sounds of explosions and screaming)_   
  
_Splicer 1: Long live Atlas!_   
  
_Splicer 2: Death to Ryan!_   
  
_Diane: What… what happened… I’m bleeding… oh, God… what’s happening…_


	22. Where is Your Heart?

_Bill McDonagh,_   
  
_Fontaine’s Legacy:_   
  
_Strikes me that Fontaine wasn’t overly inconvenienced by his own demise. One New Year’s Eve, his wretched Splicers came streaming out of the poor houses and stormed the proverbial barricades! The dead rot in the streets, and Jonny and Janey Citizen are lined up round the block for Plasmids… anything to help fend off the rabble._

* * *

  
When Frank opened the door to his penthouse he was met with the angriest glare he’d ever received in his life. Clayton was sitting on the bottom steps of the staircase, his knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them, holding them close, while he glared daggers at Fontaine. He couldn’t say he was that surprised, but Clayton’s hauntingly similar eyes bored into him. The boy’s eyes hadn’t bothered him in a long time, but right now, filled with all that hatred, they were all too familiar.   
  
“Don’t give me that look, kid,” Frank said, shutting the door and locking it just in case. “I come barin’ gifts,” he went on holding up a lunchbox with food no doubt and a letter.   
  
Clayton’s head perked up at the letter. Fontaine had allowed him and his mother to communicate with letters to each other for the past week. Frank always read Clayton’s letter, just to make sure he hadn’t stuck anything in it that hinted towards the man’s deception. One time he even let them have a radio conversation with each other, Fontaine sitting next to the child the entire time. A subtle warning to not say anything about who he really was.   
  
This weird existence and routine he’d set up for the kid hadn’t been easy at first. Clayton had been banging on the door and yelling nearly all the time the first few days and don’t even get him started on all the escape attempts. The closest he’d been was when the little bastard had picked his pocket for the keys. Almost got away with it too, if Fontaine hadn’t gone to lock the door when he left.  
  
He set the lunch box down next to Clayton and handed him the letter, which the kid snatched out of his hand and tore open quickly. Frank took his usual seat next to him, looking over his shoulder to read the words, more out of curiosity than any sort of worry. Em was still head over heels for Atlas, so he wasn’t concerned about her finding out.   
  
There was nothing different in this letter. Just a general update on what was happening and how much she missed him. How she was happy that Clayton wasn’t involved in the war and that she’d be seeing him soon. Promising him that everything was going to be okay and they’d be a happy family again soon. Once this war was over.   
  
Clayton carefully folded the letter and slipped it in his pocket. He didn’t look so tired or beaten up now. When Fontaine had first brought him here, he’d cleaned the kid up of the blood and fixed up any of his injuries, before laying him to rest in his bed. He’d saved the kid’s life again and did all the care after, but did the little bastard thank him? No, just yelled that he hated him and was going to escape somehow and then kill him. Frank had watched his little tantrum with vague amusement, the kid really reminded him of himself so very much.   
  
“You gonna write ya’ reply?” Fontaine asked, as Clayton picked up the box filled with food and even a pep bar this time. The kid had been good recently, so Fontaine had decided to reward him for his good behaviour.   
  
“I have to come up with a convincing lie so you won’t throw a hissy fit,” Clayton drawled back glumly. “Heaven forbid my mum catches on to who you really are. You’d probably just kill her anyway.”   
  
“Now you make me sound heartless.”   
  
“You are heartless.”  
  
“Not true,” Frank shook his head. “I didn’t kill you, did I?” He smirked as the kid scowled at him. “It would make more sense and it be a hell of a lot easier for me if I killed ya’. Ain’t no one here to stop me either,” he gestured around the empty penthouse save for the two of them. “But I told you. I’m not gonna kill ya’.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, because you care for me and all that bullshit!” Clayton snapped placing the box down and getting to his feet. “I hate you. I wish you’d just get it over with!”   
  
“Get what over with?”  
  
“Killing me!”   
  
“You want to die or somethin’?” He asked raising an eyebrow. “How many times I gotta tell ya’ kid? I ain’t gonna kill ya’.” He got up to his feet himself. “Truth is… I don’t really think I can…”  
  
“You expect me to believe that?” He snapped back at him. “You? The biggest liar this world has ever seen!?”   
  
Fontaine laughed, pocketing his hands and grinning at the kid. “I ain’t the biggest liar you’ve met kid, believe me. Ain’t no bigger liar than an honest man, but… I’ve been more honest to you than I care ta’ admit.”   
  
Clayton scoffed crossing his arms. “Honest with me? By- by lying to me? By tricking me into thinking you’re dead?”   
  
“I did that to everyone, don’t take it so personally.”   
  
“You’re missing the point!” The boy yelled at him. “I told you.. I told you how I saw you, what I thought of Fontaine when you were parading around as Atlas…” Clayton hissed, biting his lip to stop the angry tears. The kid had been stopping himself from crying in front of Fontaine a lot recently. Almost like he was scared to show any emotion that could be perceived as a weakness in front of the him. “I told you,” he continued. “How I felt about you… you didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, you being dead would upset me somehow?!”  
  
“Why’d you think I gave you the crossbow?” Frank snapped. “I knew how things we’re going to get-.”   
  
“Yeah because you instigated it-!”   
  
“Oh don’t give me that, you’re a smart kid, you know it would’ve reached this point with or without my help!” Fontaine argued. “I gave you the crossbow, I gave you bolts that didn’t kill or harm so you could defend yourself and not worry about going against your oh so precious morals!”   
  
“That resolve went out the window three months into our stay in the department store!”  
  
“You can’t put that on me, kid!” He hissed pointing at him. “That was all you! You kept sneaking out to help! You _made_ the damn sniper rifle!”   
  
“You told me not to hesitate and kill them on sight!” Clayton accused.   
  
“So you didn’t end up dead, you stupid bastard!” Frank yelled. “I didn’t want you dead!”   
  
“Why, because it would rest on your conscious?!” The boy scoffed, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Sorry I inconvenience you so much, Fontaine. Bet caring about someone else isn’t easy. Must be really annoying.”   
  
Fontaine laughed, but it didn’t sound real, more like something to keep his anger in check. “Oh… you ain’t got any idea how difficult it’s been,” he took a breath and calmed himself down. “Ya’ safe up here, that’s all I care about. Also you can’t tell anyone the truth and that don’t hurt either.”   
  
They fell into silence, the boy was still glaring at him angrily, arms crossed in front of him. He looked like he was holding back screaming at him. They hadn’t had a fight like this in a while. Three days to be exact, mostly because Clayton had stopped talking to him as a whole. Fontaine would try to get him to talk, but all he would get were emotionless stairs or sometimes heated glares like the one he was receiving now.  
  
Deciding that he could be doing other things that were more important to him winning this war than the staring contest he’d abruptly been forced into, Frank held his arms in a forget it motion. He walked towards the door, mumbling about how if Elizabeth wasn’t awake he was going to personally strangle Lonnie. The idiot was supposed to get information out of her about the Ace in the hole, but he’d instead put her in some sort of medically induced coma by mistake. Hadn’t Frank told the stupid bastard no quackery? Yeah, he was certain those were his exact words and what had the mug gone and done? He’d quacked it up! “  
  
I’ll come and collect the letter later,” he hissed, glaring at the boy a little a bit, only gaining a glare back. “You better make it good,” he warned, unlocking and opening the door, turning back him, he smiled sarcastically at the boy. “Maybe you should try smiling when you write it?”  
  
“Got to hell!”  
  
“Creative,” Frank drawled, walking out. “See ya’ round, kid. Don’t mess anythin’ up too much while I’m gone.”

* * *

  
Kelly quickly ran past a few nurses, holding her bag close, gripping the strap like a life line. Just something to ground herself in this crazy world they now lived in. A few shots could be heard going off around the city, sometimes a few explosions would sound along with them. Atlas’s army were destroying anything and everything. It was a civil war going on in the city and Ryan wasn’t doing much about it.  
  
The Medical Pavilion was even more busy than usual. Mostly because of all the casualties and injuries that were becoming a regular thing. People had rushed to the stores and bought as many of the Plasmids and Tonics as they could. Something to hold back the attackers, even Kelly had purchased some electrobolt and winter blast. She’d spliced up with the two Plasmids and it felt like such a rush. The nose candy she used to go for paled in comparison to what this stuff felt like. Having the Plasmids running through her made her feel safe.   
  
She quickly darted into one of the private rooms of Medical, Rosa was there, going over the charts of the person lying on the bed and it was the person that Kelly was here to see.   
  
Diane lay in the bed, thought it was hard to tell it was her due to the amount of bandages wrapped around her face. She looked at Kelly through the bandages and the other woman tried to smile at her, but even Kelly was aware at how tight it must seem. It was hard to smile these past few days, especially when she knew that it was Em who was making the bombs.  
  
Atlas’s army had even given her best friend a name, a new name. They called her the ‘Angel of Death’ you’d hear them whispering about her sometimes. Or other times they’d scream her name and declare her the greatest weapon maker and bomb maker they had. She was Atlas’s right hand and his lover apparently. Kelly wanted to laugh when she heard the second part. Of course. Of course Emilie would go for the first dangerous man that had an ounce of goodness in him. All it took for her best friend to find love was a war. She didn’t know if that said more about Emilie’s type or more about Emilie herself.   
  
Kyburz, Pablo and Bill had been forced to look at one of the bombs and they recognised Emilie’s craftsmanship. Kyburz had told Kelly, warned her that Em wasn’t the same person she had been. Kelly didn’t believe that for a second. Em was a stubborn woman, she wasn’t surprised that she’d started to do this. Kyburz just didn’t understand, he always sort to see the soft side of Em, a side of herself that she rarely showed, but he almost would ignore the aggressive side of her. Deny its existence. He’d said that all it was, was a wall that Em had put up to protect herself. Kelly knew better.   
  
“Hi, Diane,” she said gently, clutching at her strap just that little bit tighter. “How are you feeling?”   
  
“Andrew hasn’t been to see me,” Diane replied and Kelly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.   
  
As the years had gone by, she’d seen just how Andrew Ryan treated Diane. She’d also seen the look of contempt in his eyes when he looked at her. Like she was an annoyance he had to put up with.   
  
“He hasn’t been to see me,” Diane went on. “Why hasn’t he come to see me?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kelly lied, fully aware that Ryan probably hadn’t come to see her because he probably didn’t care. “Maybe he’s.. just busy.”  
  
“Too busy to see his own fiancé?!”   
  
Kelly sighed, her grip tightening just that little more. “I’m sorry, Diane…” she said gently, looking up at her again. “Are you okay? Truthfully, are you feeling okay?”  
  
“Am I feeling okay?” She repeated glaring at her through the bandages. “Look at what they’ve done to me! How could they do this to me?! What did I ever do to them?!”  
  
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Diane…” Kelly sighed, closing her eyes a moment. “And… Steinman is brilliant, right, Rosa?” She turned to her other friend who’d been busying herself with Diane’s chart rather than joining in with the conversation.   
  
Rosa looked up at her, seeming to be a little startled to be addressed. “Ah,” she blinked a little. “Yes… yes he’s brilliant, Diane,” Rosa turned to her and smiled. “He’ll fix you up in no time. You won’t even be able to see the scar once he’d done.”  
  
“You don’t sound too convinced!” She snapped, turning to Kelly. “And I’ve heard that Em’s with Atlas? Does that mean that my own friends are turning against me now?”  
  
“She probably didn’t even know you’d be there?”   
  
“Where did she think I’d be?!”   
  
_Probably at home, crying because Ryan dumped you on your own again_ , Kelly thought in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t say that to Diane’s face. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes looking very tired and feeling equally so.   
  
“I don’t know, but I don’t think she was thinking about any of us being out,” Kelly said, looking up from under her hand. “I saw her. That night on the New Year’s attacks, I saw Em and she… I didn’t recognise her at first,” she admitted. “Her clothes were covered in blood and torn, she looked tired and her eyes were bloodshot. She hand’t had a wash in months, her hair was down around her face and her.. aura, I guess, was cold. It didn’t like she had any emotion in her eyes,” Kelly looked up at Diane who’s glare hadn’t wavered, if anything it got worse.   
  
“Yes, she’s had it rough, but so have I and now look at me!”   
  
“I don’t think having relationship problems is the same as being stuck in a prison filled with splicers!” Kelly snapped her eye twitching. “Jesus Christ, Diane! Put it a little in perspective here!”  
  
“She joined Atlas! What was she expecting?”   
  
“Oh, so you knew Ryan was going to sink the department store?”  
  
“That’s not what I-.”   
  
“Then you can’t say anything!” Kelly raged. “She was trapped in that place with her son! Clayton! What do you think he saw down there?!”  
  
“Are you excusing what they’ve done-?”   
  
“No!” Kelly snapped, but sighed and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. “No… no I’m not. I’m just saying I don’t think it’s as cut and dry as we like to think,” she said, looking up at the ceiling for answers. How the hell was she supposed to word this? Why was she even bothering? It didn’t look like Diane was all that interested in listening. “No, look… violence begets violence, I know this. We all do, we survived the war after all,” she looked back at Diane now. “A peaceful solution is always better, but what kind of peaceful solution is there for a man or woman who’s lost their baby girl so Ryan can make more money? What kind of peaceful solution is there for people who’ve had to hold their loved ones dying in the street?”   
  
“That’s what we’ve had to do-.”  
  
“And they had to do it first!” Kelly snapped. “We are the architects of our own demise, Diane, can’t you see that?! No one was listening to them! They were dying of starvation and no one, not a soul was listening and the only person who did was my old employer and Lamb. Well, Ryan got rid of both of those people, so what did they have left? What option did we give them? In the end, survival wins against your morals. It always does.”  
  
“That doesn’t excuse them for what they’ve done!”  
  
“We’re not exactly innocent are we? We killed them by ignoring them,” Kelly sighed and checked her watch. “I have to go back to work. I’m glad to see you’re okay, Diane.”   
  
She stormed out of the room, gripping her handbag tightly and Rosa was quick to follow after her. She easily caught up with Kelly, gripping the clipboard almost as tightly as Kelly was gripping her handbag strap. It was part of grounding yourself. Keeping yourself from panicking and just collapsing.   
  
“You were little harsh there, Kelly,” Rosa said. “Diane’s been under a great deal of stress.”  
  
“You think I haven’t?!” Kelly snapped, pointing at herself, eyes flashing with the power of electrobolt for just a second. “I have to walk to work everyday and I don’t know if I’m going to be shot or blown up or.. or if my job is even going to still be there! I might loose my apartment!”  
  
“You were defending the people that have caused all of this,” Rosa argued. “Violence isn’t the answer.”  
  
“I know, god I know…” she looked back at her sadly. “I just want it all to end.”   
  
Rosa nodded her head in agreement, watching as another person was wheeled through on a gurney with a sheet over them. She’d seen more of those pass by than she cared to admit. The medical pavilion had always filled her with so much hope and now it just filled her with dread, every time she saw it. It wasn’t who’s life can she make better today, it was who can she prevent from dying to endure this hell a little longer.  
  
“Things will get better,” Rosa said, not sounding quite so certain but looking determined to remain positive. “Things have to get better. They.. they just have to.”   
  
“Do you really believe that?” Kelly whispered staring at her.   
  
“I have to believe it, Kelly,” she replied looking at her. “I have to believe it, because if I don’t, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope.”   
  
Kelly sighed. “You’re a better optimist than me. I envy that about you.”   
  
“I wouldn’t,” she sighed. “It makes the reality that much worse.”

* * *

  
Bill and Sullivan were sharing a drink once more. This behaviour had become a regular occurrence as time had passed. The world around them was getting infinitely worse and more unpredictable by the day. Both carried a gun with them at all times now, you couldn’t be too careful. Rapture had turned into a war zone.   
  
“So…” Sullivan sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “You sure it’s Lokken..?”  
  
“I’d recognise her work anywhere, Chief,” Bill sighed, his head bowed. “It’s her.”   
  
Sullivan nodded sagely. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Can’t say I blame her either,” he took a gulp of his drink. “Can’t say I blame any of them.”  
  
“They’re kill innocent people, Chief,” Bill argued. “I’ve got a family, any day Atlas’s goons could decide to kill them. They’re only attackin’ business and stores for now, but how long is that gonna’ last?”   
  
That was the question. At the moment, Atlas and his band of followers were only attacking stores and shops, they weren’t attack homes where a lot of people were now hiding. They seemed to have at least that much decency. Sullivan seemed confident that he’d be able to stop them. As he’d pointed out, all Atlas and his followers were, was a bunch of disgruntled workers. They weren’t master tacticians or soldiers. He’d be able to catch them in no time, he was certain.   
  
They had a strong hold in Point Prometheus at the moment, but Sullivan was putting a squad together to smoke the bunch out of there. Capture anyone he could and interrogate them. Try to get a lead on this Atlas fellow, that was happening soon, in a few days in fact. He wanted Bill to be there with him and he’d agreed to go. He didn’t want to, he was worried about his wife and daughter, but he’d do anything to stop this war.   
  
If they could capture Atlas, the followers would probably disband. With no one to lead them, they’d give up and surrender, maybe they’d even go back to working. Well, they’d certainly killed enough people for there to be job openings, as morbid as that was, it might mean everyone who was left and sane could at least get a job. Finally stop the war.   
  
“I don’t think they will,” Sullivan said. “But we’re gonna capture them, we’ve got it all sorted.”  
  
“No offence, but last time we planned a raid like this… we ended up killin’ Frank Fontaine and that was the straw that broke the camels back,” Bill looked back at him glumly. “What if we do this raid and… and we just make things worse?”  
  
“Worse than it already is?”  
  
“I don’t want to think it can get any worse, Chief,” Bill said. “But, I don’t want to risk the chance of it either. Are you sure this is going to work?”  
  
“Of course it is. We get one of those punks, we make ‘em tell us about Atlas and then we capture him. Problem solved…” he laughed bitterly. “Least that’s what I keep tellin’ myself. You know people want to leave right?”  
  
“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”   
  
“No, I can’t either, but Ryan won’t let them. Says they’re all cowards or… parasites.”   
  
“I’m starting to think that anyone who doesn’t agree with Ryan or do as I he says is a ‘parasite’ even us.”   
  
Sullivan grimaced at the thought and looked down sadly at his glass. “Came down here thinkin’ it was going to be an easy gig,” he laughed. “Boy was I wrong…”

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Impossible Anywhere Else:_   
  
_To Build a city at the bottom of the Sea! Insanity. But where else could we be free from the clutching hand of the parasites? Where else could we build an economy that they would not try to control, a society that they would not try to destroy? It was not impossible to build Rapture at the bottom of the sea. It was impossible to build it anywhere else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to not be a parent 101 with Fontaine. Seriously I need to stop giving this guy kids... Jack and then Clayton... oh boy.. anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> I've actually opened up a question/answer thing on my Tumblr, so if you've got any questions about certain characters or you want to get more in depth with my own characters or hey, you just wanted to chat, you can message me on Tumblr! :D Always love talking about Bioshock, but I got other game serious that I really enjoy too! 
> 
> So yeah, any questions and all that jazz, just send me an ask on Tumblr or even on here if you don't have a Tumblr and I'll be happy to answer them! 
> 
> Still, hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a lot of fun with this... but buckle in folks because it's gonna be a rough ride... it's Bioshock so, sort of expected... but ya' know... warnings and all that.


	23. A String of Pearls

_Katherine ‘Limey’ Michaels_   
  
_In too deep:_   
  
_He’s… Reginald… Reginald didn’t make it… I… I don’t know if Francis has… has been informed yet but… I think he will know. He… he’s… I don’t know where he is but I’m glad that it won’t be me to tell him… to tell him … oh god… what have we gotten ourselves into?!_

* * *

  
Frank sat at his desk going over another strategy, he knew he’d have to send some people out on another raid soon. At the moment, Limey was out gathering some more information for him by Dionysus Park. He’d not liked it, but reasoned that Limey was good at keeping out of sight and she could still scale a building if she needed to, despite her age.   
  
God, it had been so good to see her again when he got back. Gather a bit more of his sanity again, she kept him balanced, was probably the only thing keeping him balanced. She was angry about what had happened to Reggie and even more determined to get back at Ryan. Maybe even more than Frank was, though from Fontaine’s point of view, he wanted to get revenge on the bastard that had pulled the trigger. Then get to Ryan. He’d pin Ryan to his own wall, finally take Reggie down and bury him, on dry land.   
  
Reggie had always hated the ocean. He hated anything to do with the sea and yet he’d still come down with Frank. He got used to it and coped with living down here, but he still hated it. Frank had sometimes caught him staring at the fish or the squid that swam past and grimacing.   
  
No, Frank couldn’t leave Reggie down here. He’d take his body back to the surface, he didn’t care how decomposed it was, Reggie deserved a proper grave.   
  
Elizabeth was still unconscious, so he was waiting still for the line of the ace in the hole. Everything was weighing on this, if the war didn’t pan out quite right, he’d use his secret weapon. But the genetic freak was a last resort. At the moment, things were going well, but they could be better. They were still trapped in Apollo Square, with that goddamn gallows still in place. Every time he passed it he shuddered. He hated the damn things and the few bloated faces that were still hanging in the noose.   
  
The door opened and he looked up, finding one of his men carrying an audio diary.   
  
“It was addressed to ya’ boss,” the man said placing it down on the table.   
  
“Thanks,” he said looking down at the diary. It had a title to it, simply labeled ‘It’s not worth it’, but it was the handwriting that made Frank pause.   
  
The hand writing. That elegant scrawl he knew in a heartbeat. It was Limey’s writing. She always had an elegant curly style to her hand writing, she purposely made it like that so he’d never be able to copy it. Frank had been irritated whenever he saw her handwriting because that fact alone would niggle at the back of his mind, but right now all he felt was dread.   
  
Was she leaving him now? Right when he needed her the most? No, Limey wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. You don’t turn your back on family, she wouldn’t abandon him. Something else must of happened.   
  
Hesitantly he picked up the audio diary and held it in his hands, he didn’t know why, but he felt like he wasn’t going to like what he heard on this thing. Wether it be because of the title or the fact she’d sent this and hand’t come back… something was wrong. He just knew it.   
  
He pressed play and Limey’s voice came through the speaker. She sounded scared and out of breath, almost hysterical. She was crying… what was happening?!   
  
_“Francis! I… I have to make this quick they’re coming for me and you won’t… you won’t make it in time and I know you will try but… Listen I don’t blame you, there was a point I could’ve left myself but I didn’t. I’ve made my bed, now it’s time to lie in it. Ryan found out I helped with the smuggling and helping Atlas now and… I won’t be alive by… by the time you hear this just please, please do not blame yourself like you do with Reginald, I… and promise me. Promise me you will live. Get out of here, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt… no con is worth this! Oh lord they’re here, they’re… Francis I love you, don’t ever forget that… don’t you dare forget the light in the dark… I love you… I love you…”_   
  
The tape cut out at her scream and Frank dropped the audio diary.   
  
How long ago was this?! When had she sent it, when had the bastard been bothered to see it had come through the phnuemo?! Wait, if Ryan knew about the smuggling then..   
  
He was out the door quicker than you could blink. He sprinted past people, his people, they gave him funny looks. They tried asking him what was wrong, but he ignored them all. There was only one thing on Frank’s mind and that was Limey. He had to get there in time, he couldn’t be too late, he just couldn’t be!   
  
Frank felt that surge of panic coursing through his body. It was an emotion he wasn’t privy to feeling. He never felt nervous or panicked, there had never been a reason to be, but Limey was in danger. He couldn’t loose her too, she was all he had. All that connected him to the past, his last family member. He couldn’t loose her, he’d already lost Reggie!   
  
The gallows thankfully weren’t very far and he was able to get there. No one else was there, only Ryan security and Limey. She was handcuffed, she looked battered and bruised, her glasses were broken and her lip was bleeding.   
  
Frank felt rage course through his veins. How dare those bastards hurt her like that. How dare they touch his family!   
  
Limey’s eyes were scanning the place and it seemed the hangman was taking his sweet time. He looked like he was enjoying making the her suffer. Like he was getting off on it.   
  
To her credit, Limey’s face reminded stone, not a single bit of emotion appeared on her face. She wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of begging and being scared. She’d always been stubborn and even now, even now while she was battered and bruised, injured and clearly in a lot of pain and scared, she did not entertain them. She did not beg, she did not cry, she stood, scanning the area.   
  
Her eyes finally landed on him. Her sharp blue eyes met his deep fake blue eyes and he saw her lips twitch up in a small smile. She was glad he was here, that she could see him, but he was going to save her.   
  
Frank looked around the area. There were five of Ryan’s men, they all had machine guns. Shit, he didn’t think this through, he only had his pistol on him. If he played it smart, he could maybe take them all out, but dropping them before they got a moment to fire at him would be hard. Even if he did manage to kill them, there was no guarantee that he’d be able to kill them in time. The bastard hangman might still do it. Limey coughed and brought Frank’s attention back to her. The noose was around her neck now, Fontaine pulled the pistol out of his waistband, holding it up and eyeing the first guy.   
  
Limey coughed once more, bringing his attention back to her once again.   
  
She had an odd look on her face. One of acceptance. Frank didn’t like it, because he had a feeling he knew what she was accepting and that was a reality he didn’t want to exist.   
  
Katherine smiled sadly at him and shook her head calmly, the smile never leaving her face.   
  
“Any last words?” The hangman purred from his place by the switch for the trap door.   
  
Katherine’s smile left her face, it went back to her stone cold look. She almost looked bored with the hangman as she looked him over.   
  
“Yes,” she replied calmly. “Tell the bastard, Andrew Ryan, to come down here and do it himself.”   
  
The hangman snorted, placing his hand on the lever.   
  
Katherine looked back at Frank one final time and smiled.   
  
The trapdoor swung open.

* * *

  
Things had gone wrong, they’d gone so horribly, horribly wrong.   
  
O’Riley was in another shootout with cops. This felt like a repeat of what had happened with Fontaine, on that fateful day on the docks. The day that everything changed and what passed as ‘normal’ down in Rapture became a distant memory. Now it was blood and bullets. No matter where he went, O’Riley always found himself in the mirk, in the dust.   
  
Bullets wizzed past him, one of them grazed his arm and he hissed slightly out of pain. They were sitting ducks here, they needed to get out of Point Prometheus. O’Riley wasn’t sure where they could go after that, maybe Neptune’s Bounty? It was one of the few places that Ryan’s men hadn’t gotten on complete lockdown yet.   
  
“We have to move!” He yelled at the other men. He forgot their names, names weren’t that important now days, they usually just became corpses soon enough.   
  
“Where?!”  
  
“Get to the bathysphere!” O’Riley yelled, reloading his machine gun, “Go, I’ll hold the line!”   
  
“What- no, we can’t just leave-!”   
  
O’Riley turned to him harshly. Sweat ran down his face and his breathing was coming out in short, sharp bursts. He felt like he was going to have another episode, he hoped to god it wouldn’t be now.   
  
“I said go!” He snarled. “If I’m not there in one minute, you leave, do you understand?!”   
  
The men stared at him with wide frightened eyes. They looked like they wanted to protest, but O’Riley wasn’t having it. He shook his head at them. They needed to leave. They needed to get back somewhere safe. Most of them were only young lads, O’Riley wasn’t that. He hadn’t been that since before the war.   
  
“I said go! This is no time to argue!” He snarled getting up and firing the cover fire. “Go!” He yelled at them and they ran this time.   
  
Bullets wizzed past him, he kept his aim true and finger on the trigger. A few explosions joined the hail of bullets and chorus of war. A few lighting blasts from a Plasmid.   
  
His grip tightened on the handle of his machine gun. His knuckles white with how rightly he was gripping it. He closed as eyes and flinched as another explosion happened by his head. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in Rapture he was back on the battle field once more. The forest where the ambush had happened, he could almost feel the pain his leg again from the landing.   
  
Bullets rained all around them and O’Riley had ran, he’d ran as fast as he could through the forest. Bullets hit trees, sending splinters and wood flying everywhere. They cut into his skin as he kept running, pushing through the pain in his leg. He didn’t want to look at his leg at the time, scared of what he might see. That felt so silly now.   
  
O’Riley had ran, the enemy still chasing him, he couldn’t stop running, if he stopped running he was dead. The grenade had whizzed past his head and he’d only manage to register it hitting the tree in front of him before the blast shot him backwards. His face burned, he remembered lying on the floor, ears ringing and staring at the sky through the tree thicket. The smell of gun powder, blood, dirt and that subtle smell of pine lingered in the air.   
  
He hadn’t moved at first. O’Riley had stared at the sky, watched a flock of birds fly overhead. His left eye wouldn’t open and he couldn’t hear probably out of the ear on that side either.   
  
Shakily, he’d began to stand, he had to crawl some way to use a tree to stand up. Leaning on it heavily as he clawed himself up the tree, his knees straightening, fingernails bloody and chipped. One eye wide and glassy, stumbling through the forest, heading the direction he’d previously been running in.   
  
Behind him, a gun had cocked and he only just heard it. Tilting his head slowly to turn around and see where they were, but he would never get to that point. He would never see, as the bullet ripped through his shoulder and his body fell to the floor, he’d closed his eyes expecting the worse to happen and when he opened them, the forest was gone. He was in Rapture once more.   
  
Glancing to his shoulder, he found that it was bleeding, but he found he was having a hard time breathing too. Looking down his chest he watch as blood blossomed under his shirt. It vaguely reminded him of roses blooming and he thought how funny that was. Something so morbid could be so beautiful at the same time. Maybe that was why Cohen had been so enraptured by the idea of blood being art.   
  
He looked up at the men who had stopped firing. They were staring at him. It looked like they were almost waiting for him to keel over and die.   
  
O’Riley smiled at them, dropping his gun, blood ran down his chin and he stumbled backwards. His hand reached behind him, reaching for his old service pistol he’d had from the war. It seemed only fitting to him.   
  
“Ya know…” he choked, leaning on the far wall, laughing again, but it sounded more like air being forced out of his lungs. “Andrew Ryan… promised us.. that this place would be a utopia… a new start, a place of freedom,” he coughed to the side, spitting blood out to the floor, slowly sliding down the wall and leaving a bloody trail behind him. His vision was starting to blacken at the edges, but he wouldn’t be killed by them. “A paradise…” he spat the word out, resting his service pistol on his leg, hand gripping it as tightly as he could. “Does this look like that to you?!”   
  
Slowly Sullivan came up to him. He didn’t look scared of O’Riley he just looked like he pitied him or felt bad for him. O’Riley hated it. He wasn’t a man to be pitied, he was a solider.   
  
“Just give us Atlas, O’Riley,” Sullivan spoke. “C’mon. Just give us Atlas, that’s all Mister Ryan wants.”  
  
“I don’t give a damn what Ryan wants!” O’Riley yelled at him, spitting blood out as he went. His head bobbed up and down as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Ryan didn’t give a damn about what we wanted! He controlled everything! He controlled… our fate, my fate! Him… Fontaine… Atlas… all of them!” O’Riley laughed hysterically and shook his head, a smile on his face, bright and manic. “No more. I’m the master of my own fate! I’m in control of my own fate!”  
  
“O’Riley- no don’t do it!”   
  
He’d brought his service pistol up under his chin, O’Riley closed his eyes and pictured the surface, the breeze, the sunlight on his face. He pictured Kelly’s beautiful smile and his own smile appeared.   
  
“I am in control of my own fate…” he whispered softly, almost like a prayer.  
  
Then with the smile on his face still visible, almost looking peaceful, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

  
Clayton jumped as the door was abruptly thrown open. Fontaine stormed inside, his face pale, hands shaking and eyes wide. He didn’t even bother to lock the door, he just let it close, Fontaine didn’t even register Clayton’s presence either. The man walked up the stairs straight to his mini bar.   
  
The boy followed him, almost cautiously, staying out of the way, he watched as Fontaine took a bottle and began to gulp down the liquid. He could tell by the man’s wince that the alcohol burned his throat, but he didn’t seem to care. After a moment, Fontaine lowered the bottle away from his lips, staring at the wall a moment.   
  
Clayton jumped and hid a little when the man threw that same bottle he’d been drinking from at the wall. The bottle smashed to pieces, the liquid stained the wall, glass stuck and slowly began to slide down. Deciding that he wasn’t just done with that one bottle, Clayton watched as Fontaine grabbed another bottle and threw it at the wall, a scream tore its way out of Frank’s throat as he did it.   
  
Slowly the ten year old crept over to Fontaine, who had picked up another bottle and hurled it. He was cursing and yelling, screaming how he was going to kill every single last one of them. A few apologies were thrown into the mix, directed at Reggie and Limey, that was when Clayton understood.   
  
Something had gone wrong. Something had gone very wrong and Limey was…   
  
“What happened…?” He whispered softly while Frank took a pause in his destruction, leaning on the shelves that held the rest of his liquor.   
  
Without a word, Fontaine slid his arm across one of the shelves violently, sending all of the bottles to the floor where they smashed, spilling alcohol everywhere.   
  
He turned to face Clayton and the boy’s eyes widened slightly as he saw the glassy and red rimmed eyes staring back at him. Fontaine was… crying? In all honesty, Clayton was surprised the man had the ability to cry, but here it was. Presented to him, fully on show, the monster of Rapture was crying tears of remorse.   
  
“What happened?” Fontaine repeated, picking up one of the balls from the pool table. “What happened… was Ryan’s men grabbed Limey and they… they fuckin’ _hanged_ her!” As he said this he threw the pool ball into shelving containing the alcohol and Clayton jumped as it smashed some of the bottles, damaging the wall behind it.   
  
Taking a few steps backwards as he watched Fontaine destroy his home. The rage was like a whirlwind ripping through the penthouse. Everything Fontaine touched, he destroyed, throwing things, tearing paintings down from the walls, letting them smash when they hit the floor.  
  
Clayton stood at a distance, watching the destruction in slight concern. This was different to any other forms of destruction he’d seen Fontaine do. This was brought up by pain, not anger, not frustration, this show of chaos was brought about by loss. The man had lost what he had left of the odd family he seemed to of surrounded himself with. Clayton felt sorry for him.  
  
“I am gonna tear Ryan’s precious city apart!” Frank screamed. “I’m gonna take everything he loves and destroy it! Everything he’s ever held dear, everyone he’s ever cared about, I’m gonna kill them all! I’m gonna destroy all of it! I’ll take everything away from him that he took away from me and I’ll use his bastard son to do it!”  
  
“That’s not fair…” Clayton whispered. “You can’t destroy everyone else because you’re in pain.”   
  
Fontaine slowly turned to face him, his look cold and yet filled with so much pain and hate, that Clayton backed away from him. He idly wondered if this was the real Frank Fontaine, or.. whoever this man was. If the man standing in front of him, radiating pain and hatred, showing his bitter side towards Clayton for the first time, the ten year old really did have to wonder. Was this, him? Was this the real man all along and everything else, everything that Clayton knew him to be, was nothing more than an act.  
  
“I can destroy everything,” Fontaine snarled at him. “I’ll take this city apart, piece, by piece and I’ll kill every single last person here,” he hissed, walking towards Clayton as he said those words. “One, by, fuckin’ one.”   
  
“You’ll only be hurting yourself!” The boy argued. “Killing all those people! Punishing all those people- that won’t bring Limey or Reggie back!”   
  
Clayton had backed away from Fontaine as the man had stalked towards him. He was backed against the wall now, clutching at it and staring fearfully at the man who now had him trapped. He swallowed down his fear and met Fontaine’s cold and heartless stare.   
  
“It- it won’t bring them back!” Clayton cried again. “Killing all those people won’t bring Reggie and Limey back, it won’t!”   
  
“I… don’t… care…” Frank snarled.   
  
That was the truth of it. The awful horrible truth, that Fontaine didn’t care and now he had no one to hold him back.   
  
Clayton had never felt truly scared of this man. There had never been a time in his life when he’d feared for his life, there was always a safety with Fontaine. He’d ran to him when he was scared or hurt, just like he did with his mother. Fontaine had been as much of a comfort as his mother had always been and then he saw the man as his father.   
  
Now, however, standing with his back against the wall, staring at a man who had finally told the biggest truth he’d ever told, Clayton was afraid. He could feel his breathing becoming thinner and thinner, he felt his heart hammering in his chest. It was so loud he was sure that Fontaine could hear it, the organ felt like it was trying to rip itself out of his chest.   
  
Clayton gripped at his chest, his other hand coming up to his neck, eyes wide and staring at the floor. He couldn’t breath, he was dying. It was the same feeling he’d had when he’d discovered who Fontaine was and he’d collapsed to the floor. Unable to breath, unable to think, he could only panic and constantly have his mind screaming at him that he was going to die.   
  
“I can’t breath…” he gasped, clutching tightly at his chest. “I can’t breath.. I can’t breath.. I’m dying… I’m dying….!”   
  
He slumped to the floor, falling side ways and he was certain he’d crack his head against the wooden floor, but a hand caught his head. Clayton felt himself be moved and he was resting in someone’s arms who held him close, it took him a moment to register it was Fontaine. He was staring down at him with wide eyes, looking frantic and his mouth was opening and closing, but Clayton couldn’t hear what he was saying.   
  
“I can’t breath.. I’m dying.. I’m dying…” he gasped, clutching tighter at his chest and neck. “I can’t breath.. I can’t…”   
  
Fontaine grabbed his hand from around his throat and placed it flat against his chest. Clayton was confused at first, he didn’t understand what Fontaine was doing.   
  
Slowly, Frank began to breath deeply and slowly, he stared back at Clayton. It felt like his eyes were imploring for Clayton to do something, then the boy got it. Frank wanted him to copy his breathing.   
  
Clayton put all his concentration onto the rise and fall of Fontaine’s chest. Each breath and each exhale, slowly mimicking him and gaining back some control. He stared at him, Fontaine was speaking to him and Clayton was gradually able to hear the words. His other senses came back along with his hearing and he closed his eyes to calm down his beating heart, feeling it return to normal.   
  
“Kid, you still with me? Clayton?”  
  
“I’m okay…” Clayton whispered, eyes opening to stare back at the concerned eyes of a man that had caused him so much pain, but had brought him so much comfort. Carefully, he reached up with his hands, wrapping his arms around Fontaine, burying his head against his chest. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry about Limey.. and Reggie. I’m sorry…”   
  
Hesitantly, Fontaine returned the hug and held him close. It brought some comfort to Clayton because it showed that there was still some humanity left in Fontaine. He hand’t lost it yet, it was still there, it was just hidden away.   
  
Eventually Fontaine let go and helped him to his feet. He at least seemed calmer now, but that could very easily be him controlling his anger. He probably didn’t want to scare Clayton again and send him into another spiral. Clayton didn’t know what else to call it but that, he wasn’t even sure what was wrong with him or why these random moments where happening.   
  
He took a few steps away from Fontaine, staring up at him with big brown eyes. The blue lies of Atlas stared back at him, but he could see Fontaine in his gaze now.   
  
“I’m not gonna loose you, kid,” Frank promised him. “I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you. I promise.”   
  
Without another word, Fontaine left, leaving Clayton alone in the penthouse again. He supposed his prison, in a twisted way, was also his safe place, but that didn’t mean he was planning on staying any longer than he already had done. He was going to get out of here. He was going to run and find his mother, tell her everything about Fontaine and then the two of them would have to go into hiding.   
  
Going back to the bedroom, Clayton collected his backpack, slipping his bomber jacket on, the fluffy white sleeves were now a crimson red, permanently stained with blood that would never come off. He pulled his backpack on, tightened the laces on his shoes, grabbed an old dishcloth from the kitchen and tired it around his face.   
  
He’d been planning this escape for a while, unsure if he’d be able to do it, but he was going to try. It was the middle of the day and not that cold, so it was the safest time for him to try.   
  
Clayton walked up to the fireplace centred in the middle of Fontaine’s bed room. All the big fancy apartments had one. They were all connected by one pipe that lead to an exhaust, which didn’t let the water in. He pressed his hands against the wall and his back, before bringing his legs inside. There was a lot of soot and he was grateful he’d put the dishcloth around his nose and mouth.   
  
He began to climb up the chimney, his small size finally had it’s advantages. He remembered his mother had told him children would be sent up chimney’s like this to clean them. He’d thought it was useless information at first, but now he was starting to see how valuable it actually was.   
  
Eventually, he’d managed to reach the pipe, now all he needed to do was crawl along until he came across another chimney opening. God knows how long that was going to take, he didn’t know the map of the chimneys, he only knew the air vents.   
  
Sighing to himself, Clayton began to crawl through the pipe, his goal set on getting out before someone decided to put their chimney on. The soot was bad enough and he knew his clothes would be ruined, but he didn’t care. He had to get out of here and warn his mother. Fontaine was out for blood now, he wouldn’t stop, he’d risk everything and everyone just so he could win. That made him dangerous.   
  
As much as Clayton hated to think about it, the only way he or his mother were ever going to truly be safe, was when Fontaine was dead. For real this time. Clayton didn’t want to kill him. He had at first, but when he’d stood in front of the man, covered in blood and a gun held shakily in his hand, he couldn’t get himself to pull the trigger. He still loved Fontaine. Even after everything he’d done, after all the pain and all the hurt, he still loved him like the father he’d never had. It couldn’t continue, however.   
  
One way or another, Frank Fontaine had to die, so that Clayton Lokken could live.

* * *

  
_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_Taken Everything:_   
  
_That bastard! *crashing sounds and things breaking in the background* You’re dead Ryan! First Reggie and now Limey?! You’ve taken everythin’ now… everything! Well it’s high time I take everythin’ from you. You wanted a war?! Now you’ve got one!_


	24. La Vie En Rose

_Prentice Mill,_   
  
_The End of the Line:_   
  
_This is it. It’s over. I built this railroad from nothing… played by Mister Ryan’s rules. But then he asks me to sink my own cash reserves into the banks to give Rapture some breathing room, and now… now Austen God dammed Bathysphere wants to buy me out. Decommission the entire rail! I have no family… and no time for friends. I am the Atlantic Express… and this… this is the end of the line…_

* * *

He felt cold. Numb. This feeling was not a new feeling for Frank, but there was something different about it this time. It felt like he’d lost a part of himself and in truth he had. There was nothing left except winning this war and getting Rapture. Getting what was his back and what should’ve belonged to him all along. What would’ve belonged to him if Ryan had played by his own rules. Should’ve known that bastard would never do that.   
  
Fontaine stared out across the ocean, behind him, Elizabeth was starting to come round from the drug induced coma Lonnie had accidentally put her into. It was safe to say that Lonnie had suffered an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident earlier in the week. The poor bastard had never seen that metal crate coming from a great height until it was too late. A real shame that.  
  
Frank looked up at the window and focussed on Elizabeth’s reflection that lifted her head up, blinking groggily around the room. He took a drag from his cigarette, desperately trying his best to calm himself down, but he was out for blood today. There was no one to hold him back, nothing was out of the question to him now. All he cared about was winning. There was nothing else left and he owed it to Limey and Reggie to win. He was going to make the whole of Rapture burn for them and he’s kill Ryan. Pin him up on a wall for all to see. His own little trophy and then he’d put Reggie and Limey to rest on the surface, before collecting his reward and bringing the ADAM to the surface.   
  
_“After the bombing of the Kashmir, we were all plenty scared of Atlas and his thugs. But only a fool counts out the right-thinking folks of Andrew Ryan’s Rapture. Atlas’s thugs have been pushed out of Point Prometheus, they’re on the run in Port Neptune. It’s one thing starting a war, Atlas, but finishing one’s an altogether different matter. Folks say it’s only a matter of time before Atlas’s entire mob comes out waving the white flag..”_   
  
The radio announcer was not doing much to help his mood. Limey’s death had only been yesterday and it plagued on Frank’s mind. He ran it over and over again, like he did with Reggie’s, trying to think of some way he could’ve changed things. He didn’t know why he bothered, it wasn’t going to bring either of them back, so Fontaine would settle for burning Rapture to the ground instead. He’d punish everyone else and Ryan especially for taking away his family and his product. He’d win and dance on the bastards grave.   
  
“Two weeks,” he growled as he took another drag from his cigarette.   
  
“What?” Elizabeth asked behind him, sounding confused and he supposed she had a reason to be. That drug stuff really messed with your head if you weren’t used to it.   
  
“You’ve been down two weeks, luv’,” he clarified. “Feckin’ doctors. Better off hirin’ a million monkeys.” T  
  
he ground shook as explosions happened in the background and all around them. Rapture had turned into a war zone recently, not just because of his men, but the splicers as well. They were having quite a fun time destroying everything and doing whatever they wanted, no questions asked. Of course, citizens of Rapture were still going to work, they didn’t have any other choice because they needed to earn money.   
  
Behind him, Elizabeth coughed, probably due to the smoke and brick dust that filled the room. Every time there was an explosion, more dust would reign down from the ceiling.   
  
“Our deal was to get you out of prison. What, did you expect me to win your war for you too?”   
  
Frank span around and pointed at her warningly. “I’d tend to your own knittin’ if I were you,” he took one finally drag of the cigarette before tossing it carelessly to the floor.   
  
The Great Pretender, a song that Frank had smuggled down when he was running that side of his operations, was playing softly in the back ground. It was one of many of the 50s songs he’s smuggled down for the citizens of Rapture who paid enough, but this song just… well, it resonated with him. He especially enjoyed playing it while he was Atlas, it had been an inside joke at the time, not it was the only thing keeping him just that little bit calmer than he truly felt.   
  
“Now, darlin’,” he went on. “Bein’ that you were Suchong’s lab assistant and all, why not tell me where me Ace in the Hole went to?”   
  
She looked confused, shaking her head a little. “I don’t know-.”   
  
“As I said,” he interrupted her. “I’m no doctor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find the field fascinatin’,” he walked forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, a mockery of comfort and was rewarded with her flinching away. “I keep up on all the medical journals and the like.”  
  
“I hope you have someone to help you with all the big words,” she spat back.   
  
Frank smirked a little behind her. Even mad, he could appreciate her spirit, even if it was being inconvenient for him at the moment. “You know what part of the brain free will comes from?” He went on, ignoring her jab. “Stubbornness?” He leaned into her eye sight and pointed at the front of his head. “The pre-frontal lobe,” all this brain talk was reminding him of Cicil, so maybe this torture idea wasn’t the best one he could’ve gone for. “Now I think it’s fair to say, you’re a bit of a stubborn one, are ya’ not?”   
  
Proving his point, she only glared back at him in response.   
  
He turned away and walked over to the kit he’d grabbed, picking up the long thin needle like ice pick and the small hammer. Amazing really, you could pick up a kit like this from any bar in reality.   
  
“A man named Steinman taught me this trick,” he explained, recalling how when he’d been waiting for Reggie’s face to be finished the mad doctor had gone into a very detailed description and even a small demonstration of how this worked. Not on Reggie of course, Frank would’ve killed him on the spot, but on some other poor sod. “He’s a bit of a lunatic,” he admitted to Elizabeth, before running a hand across his jaw and a smirk pulled at his lips. “But a fine surgeon,” tools in hand he turned back to her, facing sideways and holding up the ice pick adjacent to his eye. “He calls this little trick a ‘transorbital lobotomy.”   
  
Elizabeth seemed to get nervous. Her breathing had picked up a little and she gripped the chair tightly as he walked up to her. Seeing her so scared, finally, put him in a much better mood. He’d enjoyed her sass, but there was only so much he could take after a while before it got on his nerves.   
  
“Now originally,” he went on, almost like he was discussing the wether and not the ins and outs of torture. “I was gonna do this to you,” he pointed at her. “But, I feel like I’d make more of an impact, if I just skipped ahead and threatened to do it on the brat,” Frank leaned into her space and ugly snarl taking over his face. “The best thing about Little Sisters, is you can harm them brats over and over and over again… and they just heal, but they feel _everything_. Every scratch, every burn, every bone broke and every limb cut off,” he wasn’t sure of this, but it seemed to be doing the trick as Elizabeth’s face had gone a deathly pale. “The best of it is, I wouldn’t even need to be the one to do it. You think I’m ordering my men to attack that brat? Oh no, I’m havin’ to order them to stay away from her. They’re droolin’ whenever they catch a glimpse, ‘cause all they see is a walkin’ bottle of ADAM that’s all theirs fer the takin’. Now, if you don’t want that to happen, you’ll tell me where me Ace in the Hole is.”   
  
“You won’t hurt her,” Elizabeth snarled back in defiance.   
  
“And what makes you so sure of that, luv’?”   
  
She smirked at him. “Because for all your cruelty, all your bitter rage… you’re scared of those girls. They make you uncomfortable,” she went on, glaring right back at him. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to do the deed, you’d get someone else to do it, because deep down it doesn’t sit right with you.”   
  
Frank held the pick up between the two of them. “Then maybe, I should just go back to my original plan.”  
  
“And what? You put a hole in my head and take away my memories?” She scoffed. “You’d make me forget all this? You want to make me not care anymore? Go ahead, you’d be doing me a favour.”   
  
Fontaine cried out in frustration and anger, turning around and backhanding Elizabeth across the face. “Bring in the monster!” Because damn it all the bitch was right, he couldn’t think of them as children.   
  
Pacing back and forth in the dim light, he turned back to her, not bothering to disguise his voice as she already knew and everyone else was out of the room.   
  
“You’re a regular hero ain’tcha’?” He snarled. “Can’t risk rippin’ the only part a’ you that’s worth a damn. Well, there’s more than one way to fry an egg!” Frank turned away from her to reign himself back again and bring out cool, calm and collected Atlas. He got the voice, but sadly his temper hadn’t left him, even when the Sister was brought in strapped to a gurney.   
  
A younger Fontaine would’ve shrinked back, a younger Fontaine had Limey and Reggie by his side, a younger Fontaine wasn’t missing something so vitally important like morals. He’d grown up since then, lost things since then, everything else didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing that was important was winning back Rapture. He’d do anything to get this city now, nothing was out of the question for him. He could feel that manic smile trying to crawl its way back onto his face, the term grin and bear it came to mind every time it appeared, but he forced it back.   
  
“Now little one,” Frank snarled, glaring down at this squirming thing that barely looked like a human being, with its glowing eyes and grey skin, let alone a child, withered and begged with its echoing voice. “Are you familiar with the term ’transorbital lobotomy’?”   
  
“No.. please let her go!” Elizabeth begged, but he ignored her.   
  
“It’s a simple matter,” he went on, standing up straight to look Elizabeth dead in the eye. Her panicked and distressed eyes met his cold and dead ones. “All I need to do is insert this pick,” he held it up for her to see. “Into your eye.”   
  
“No.. please! I don’t know anything! I-!”   
  
“And give it a few taps with me hammer,” he held the other instrument up in question.   
  
“I don’t know anything!” Elizabeth was near enough screaming now.   
  
“Better to show by example!” He yelled back, holding the pick just above the Sister’s eye, looking back at Elizabeth who shook in her bonds and shook her head repeatedly.   
  
“Oh please! Please, don’t I- I don’t know anything I- I don’t know! Please!”  
  
He regarded her, studied her and maybe if he’d been in a better frame of mind he might’ve seen she was telling the truth. If he’d been him old and younger self, he would’ve easily saw the honest to god panic and truth in Elizabeth’s words. Then again, if he’d been his younger self he wouldn’t be doing any of this at all. A good grifter never needed to hurt anyone and Frank never had, but he’d changed.   
  
As Rapture got worse so did the people, almost like their were mirroring the city around them. Morals became less important, survival was the only thing that mattered, getting ahead and being the best. Now survival and winning was the only thing important. He didn’t care who he had to hurt or what he had to do, to do it. Frank was going to win and he was going to get Rapture, if he had to bring everyone down in order to do it, so be it.   
  
In the end, he didn’t care, the scariest part, which he was only starting to realise now, was that he’d never cared to begin with.   
  
“Suchong’s clinic!”   
  
He froze mid swing, the pick hadn’t entered the Sister’s eye, he’d not even slid it in, only held it above her eye. Alright… so maybe some of his younger self was still in him after all or maybe that was the side of him that was like Clayton.   
  
Thinking about the boy brought out the softness in Frank that even he had no control over. Almost like a calming balm.   
  
“It’s at Suchong’s clinic,” Elizabeth repeated, sounding more tired than scared now.   
  
“That’s a bit convenient now,” he said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded compared to a few moments ago. Almost pleasant. “Ryan’s got every turret in the place tuned to me and me men’s genetic code,” well, to his men’s genetic code, not his. ‘Frank Fontaine’ was dead after all, least that’s what Ryan thought. “We’d be torn to shreds before we got ten feet.”  
  
“That’s right,” she replied. “Which is why I’m gonna to do it for you,” she glared at him now, the fight returning to her. “You okay with that?”   
  
Frank took the pick away from the Sister and nodded his head. “Get me the Ace, I’ll wrap the brat in a silk ribbon,” he gestured to one of his men. “Bag her and bring her to my bathysphere.”   
  
He placed the tools away, his hands were shaking violently, though he wasn’t sure if that was from anger or shock. His younger self would’ve been horrified by what he’d been about to do. It was just like Suchong and Tenenbaum, but then that Kraut had gone and grown herself a conscious hadn’t she?   
  
Frank looked at himself in the reflection of the window. He barely recognised the man staring back at him. Despite the surgery he’d had done to alter his looks, he looked like he’d aged rapidly in the past few years. He looked like he was in his mid forties, closer to his fifties, then the soon to be thirty nine year old he was going to be. His eyes were dark and his face weathered. Rapture seemed to do that to you. Just sucked the life out of you and left you hollow and empty.   
  
He closed his eyes and leaned against the table, taking a moment to calm himself. He felt a gentle touch at his back and Frank didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was, there was only one person it could be.   
  
Turning he found Em staring back at him, her eyes were filled with concern for him. No, not him. They were filled with concern for the man she loved, for the lie he’d created. She’d held that same concern last night when she’d found out about Limey, comforting him all night because she could just tell he was deeply upset. Well, that barely scratched the surface on what he was truly feeling, but she’d been there, held him all night and told him it wasn’t his fault. That he’d done everything he could to try and save her and yet Frank didn’t believe a word of it.   
  
“Are you alright?” She asked softly. “You were yelling so loud I could hear you from down the corridor.”   
  
“I lost my temper,” he admitted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it luv’. I’m okay,” he reached forward and rubbed her shoulders gently, but she wrapped her arms around him. Frank found himself relaxing into her hold and hugging her back. He hated that she’d made him grow accustomed to human interaction like this. He hated even more that he didn’t hate it. Just having someone to go back to, someone to hold, it was oddly.. comforting. “We got a line on the Ace,” he admitted. “Elizabeth is gonna get it for us, Ryan hasn’t got the turrets tuned to her code.”  
  
Em smiled sadly at him, leaning up and kissing him softly, Fontaine found himself returning it gladly. Almost desperately and he mentally slapped himself. The hell was wrong with him? First rule of any good con, you didn’t fall for it yourself. He didn’t care about Em, she was just a means to an end. A tool, that was all.   
  
“We better go then,” she said, leading him out of the room and they made their way down to his bathysphere.  
  
Elizabeth was already there, the bag over her head, which had got a raised eyebrow from Em. He said he’d tell her later and they made the short trip to the back of Artemis Suites, where Suchong’s clinic was kept. One of the few places that had been marginally useful back in the day.   
  
They rose up out of the icy depths and the door to the bathysphere opened.   
  
Frank regarded Elizabeth calmly and extended his arm out almost in a welcoming gesture for her to step forward. “One a’ the lads will show you how to get inside,” he explained as one of his men, a brutish sort, pushed Elizabeth out of the sphere, making her fall to the ground. Em glared fiercely at the man in question, but Frank didn’t react at all, continuing with what he was saying. “We’ll be waitin’ for you where you come out,” she got up, brushing herself down and glaring at him. “Shake a leg now,” he said, a smirk almost appearing on his face. “The Lord hates a laggard.”   
  
The door closed and Elizabeth turned around, making her way towards the man in question who would help her inside, while the sphere sank back into the icy depths.

* * *

  
Clayton pushed the door open to the apartment he’d stumbled into, coughing into his hand. He was covered head to toe in soot and he was glad he’d wrapped a dishcloth over his mouth and nose before attempting his escape. It had been so dark in that pipe and he’d struggled to breath with all the soot, but he’d been able to make it to another chimney and fire place. He’d dropped down into the room and quickly scrambled away, the place looked like it had been ransacked. Obviously whoever had lived there didn’t live there anymore. They were probably dead or spliced, those seemed to be the only options.   
  
He rubbed at his face, desperately trying to get rid of some of the soot. Not that it did much good for him. It was quiet around Olympus Heights, Mercury Suites was like a ghost town. The last time he’d been here, LaLorna had blown up due to a faulty Plasmid.   
  
That felt so long ago now and so silly. He’d been so scared and horrified by what had happened and now, he didn’t even blink when a person was ran through by a Big Daddy. Maybe he should be concerned by that, but he didn’t have time to be. He had to get back to his mum somehow. Sneak by without being seen, but how the hell was he going to do that? Fontaine was probably watching everything or had everything watched over by his men.   
  
He supposed he could try telling them the truth, but they’d probably just scoff at him. Roll their eyes because he was a kid and what did a kid know? Well, a damn sight more than them apparently, but he knew his mother would believe him.   
  
Clayton paused as he ran down the steps. Slowing down and staring at the floor, questioning that statement. Would she believe him? She loved Atlas, he knew she did, he could see it on her face and that was another thing that made him angry with Fontaine. The man was going to hurt his mother one way or the other. Maybe not physically, but he certainly would emotionally. Clayton knew his mother well enough to know that opening up to people wasn’t something she did on a whim. Falling in love with someone certainly wasn’t something she just did randomly, as long as Clayton had been with her, his mother had never fallen in love. She’d never allowed herself the luxury, always on guard.   
  
His mother, Clayton had come to realise, expected the worst in everyone and it took you a while to work past her walls. It had taken Frank, as Atlas, a long time to get past those walls too, just about half a year. The man had been persistent, so obviously he needed his mother for something. Not that Clayton knew what.   
  
Closing his eyes a moment to collect his thoughts, Clayton started walking again, but he stopped once more when he felt their presence. The twins that would come to him and give him advice. The ones that had tried to warn him about Fontaine.   
  
“You knew,” he whispered, turning around and staring at the twins who only looked back at him. Not hint of emotion on their faces. “You knew this whole time. You knew who Atlas was!”  
  
“And deep down,” the male twin said.   
  
“So did you,” the female twin finished.  
  
“You could’ve been a bit clearer!” Clayton snapped. “Could’ve just told me straight who Atlas was! Why’d you have to do the whole cloak and dagger bullshit-.”  
  
“Language like that is not needed,” the first Lutece twin said. “We made things as clear as possible.”   
  
“And now you know the truth.”  
  
“Because of Elizabeth!” The boy argued, before going a deathly shade of pale. “Oh god.. Elizabeth! Where is she?!”   
  
“The girl now walks to her death.”  
  
“Atlas will betray her.”  
  
“She knows this.”   
  
“But she doesn’t care. She’s saving the girl. Paying the debt.”  
  
“The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, brother?”  
  
“Even for you,” the male Lutece said, pointing at Clayton. “You certainly didn’t fall far from the tree either.”   
  
Clayton narrowed his eyes. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”   
  
“You already know.”   
  
“The man you’re like already pointed it out.”  
  
“I’m _nothing_ like him,” Clayton snarled, glaring at them. “I’m not a _monster_!”   
  
The Lutece twins looked amused by this, looking at each other a moment before looking back at him again.   
  
“You’re actions were the same as his.”  
  
“No they weren’t!” He argued. “I didn’t kill those people for no reason.”  
  
“Neither does he. He has a reason,” the man said. “It’s bad for business to kill with no reason.”   
  
“I wonder,” the woman went on, “Do you see yourself as being different because you believe your reasoning for your actions to be different.”  
  
“What?” He frowned at the two of them.   
  
“You murdered those people to kill a bad person, does that make your actions justified?”   
  
“Does that make your actions right?”   
  
“Does that make you a hero?”  
  
“I don’t want to be a hero!” Clayton yelled. “I just want to stop him!”  
  
“Someone will stop him, but not you.”   
  
“That is the fate of someone else.”  
  
“The man you know as Frank Fontaine will die.”  
  
“So everyone else can live.”   
  
Clayton’s eyes widened in surprise. So someone was going to kill him. Someone was going to stop him, but not Clayton. Someone else? Who? The twins didn’t seem to be ready to give him any answers, staring blankly back at him. No answers slipped from their lips, despite his questioning gaze.   
  
He felt a mixture of relief and sadness at the idea of Fontaine being killed for real. Despite their complicated history and Clayton’s even more complicated feelings towards the man, he was his dad. He was the man that he’d looked up to as a boy and in a bizarre way was still looking up to him. He didn’t agree with his actions, he didn’t agree with his choices, but there was no denying that the man was clever.   
  
“Will I…?” He closed his eyes. “Will I ever find out who he really is?”  
  
“You will,” the woman nodded. “But not in Rapture.”   
  
Filing that information away for later, Clayton looked up at them, pleadingly begging for a straight answer with this question. “Will I be able to say goodbye? Before he… before he dies?”   
  
They stared back at him, emotionless and blank, but in perfect tandem with each other they nodded their heads.   
  
He felt relief wash over him and closed his eyes, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.   
  
“Thank you…” he whispered to the empty air as the twins had disappeared, but in their absence Clayton now knew how he was going to get inside the base without being seen.   
  
Where the twins had been standing, hidden behind them was an air vent that the Little Sisters now used. It connected them through all of Rapture and Clayton was just small enough to fit inside and make his way through to the base. It would be just like old times when he used them to sneak around before. Looks like history was going to repeat itself.   
  
He ran up to the vent and climbed inside, sliding down into he hit the floor of the next vent, before once again beginning his long track through the dark.

* * *

  
Emilie stood at the back of the small group they had, staring out at the sea which seemed darker now than before. Explosions could be seen from this vantage point, happening across the city as their movement wreaked havoc on Ryan’s precious Atlas. She could only hope that none of her friends were caught in the crossfire.   
  
This was the part she hated, the waiting. The not knowing of what might happen and what might not happen. The constant being on edge. Then again, Em couldn’t recall a recent part of her life where she hadn’t been on edge.   
  
She glanced to the side, watching the struggling Little Sister who kicked and yelled, trying desperately to get away from the man who was holding her. Emilie wasn’t entirely sure what was going on and oddly, Atlas had been less than forth coming about the information. He was holding something back from her and when she really thought about it, she realised that he’d been holding something back from her for a while now.  
  
It made her angry. She wanted to ask him, but every time she did, he’d brush her off. At first he decided not to push, but now it was grating on her nerves. Em still loved him, of course she did, she just didn’t like things being kept from her. Important things too, since whatever it was seemed desperately important to him. Then there was the whole business with her son and her not being able to see him. She trusted that he was safe just like Atlas had said, but again it felt like he was hiding something from her and the line of not leading Ryan to him was just an excuse. A good one, but an excuse none the less.   
  
“You alright, luv?” Atlas asked as he came up and placed a hand on her shoulder, kissing the top of her head.  
  
“I’m okay,” she nodded her head, pulling away a little bit. “Just hate this. The waiting.”  
  
“I know, not exactly my idea of fun either.”   
  
Em looked at him, then looked past him at the Sister, Sally her name was if she remembered correctly, before turning her questioning gaze back at Atlas. “What’s going on?”  
  
“What do you mean, angel?”  
  
“I mean with the Sister,” she gestured to Sally. “What’s going on, why is she here?”   
  
Atlas opened his mouth to say something, but quickly snapped it shut as the roar of a Big Daddy filled the air. It was so loud it shook the whole building and Em stumbled slightly along with everyone else. It sounded like it had come from Suchong’s clinic, which made some sense, the man had created the Big Daddies after all.   
  
Everyone was suddenly on edge. They didn’t want to run in to a Big Daddy when it was calm, they especially didn’t want to run into one when it was angry. Those things were unpredictable at the best of times.   
  
Footsteps sounded and soon Elizabeth began to emerge out of the darkness. The woman looked a mess, even more so then when Em had last seen her. She looked tired and her eyes held a harshness to them when she looked at Atlas. A level of contempt for the man before her.   
  
“Hey, sister,” Atlas drawled, taking his place between two of the men. “Over here.”   
  
Elizabeth walked closer, lips in a thin straight line and gaze locked solely on Atlas. An explosion happened somewhere behind them and the ground shook with the force. Bits of dust fell from the ceiling above them, a few pieces of concrete loosened and tumbled to the floor, quickly getting lost in the mess of debris that already littered the floor.   
  
“Do you have it?” He asked.   
  
“I have it.”   
  
“Give it over then. I’m keen to get this brat off me hands,” he said, gesturing to the Little Sister.  
  
Elizabeth pulled out what looked like an envelope from her skirt, a small almost amused smile on her face. “You know what?” She said, holding the letter in front of her. “Andrew Ryan said I was a rube. But he was wrong,” she held the letter out to Atlas, who looked excited and pleased, reaching for it. “I’m not the rube, Atlas, _you are_ ,” she lifted the letter away from him and Atlas frowned at her, while a few of the men took a step closer. Elizabeth glanced at them almost carelessly, before returning her attention back to Atlas. “Now,” she laughed slightly. “We both know what happens next…” a snarl took over her face as Atlas stepped back and looked her over. “Just get it over with.”   
  
Em looked at Atlas questioningly but the man only ignored her, turning around towards one of the other men. “Well, luv…” he said taking the wrench from the man’s hand. “If you insist.”   
  
Time seemed to slow down. Emilie watched in horror as Atlas swung the wrench across Elizabeth’s head and the woman dropped to the floor, her head was bleeding and she lay there, unmoving. He stood by the window, the wrench clasped in his hand, blood dripped from it ominously. Atlas opened the letter, but Em’s gaze was on Elizabeth, who lay on the floor dying, her eyes fluttering open and closing slowly each time.   
  
“No…” Atlas whispered, sounding horrified and scared all of a sudden, then suddenly the man was in Em’s field of view again, holding up the letter to Elizabeth. “What’s this?! It - It’s just a buncha gibberish!”  
  
Elizabeth stared at it a moment, her eyes slipping closed again and Atlas’s face took on an ugly snarl that didn’t seem to fit on his handsome face.   
  
“What does this say, you little whore?!”   
  
Em felt her blood turn to ice.   
  
That voice… that voice she’d know anywhere. She’d loathed it whenever she’d heard it, glared at the owner and had more heated arguments with him than she cared to admit. A voice she hadn’t heard in a whole year because the owner of it was supposed to be dead and hanging on Ryan’s trophy wall.   
  
The voice of a man that Em had hated and would never love, a voice that should not be here and should never be coming out of Atlas’s pretty mouth.   
  
“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” He yelled at Elizabeth who opened her eyes again to stare at him. “What does this say?!”   
  
“It says…”   
  
Emilie couldn’t hear anything. Her head was spinning, her ears were ringing. Eyes wide and staring down at Elizabeth who said something to this liar who should be dead. Whatever she had said must of pleased him because he stood up and began speaking again to the rest of them. Looking proud and making some grand speech, but Em didn’t hear any of it, she was solely focussed on Elizabeth.   
  
Fontaine rose the wrench again and cracked it over Elizabeth’s head once more, delivering the final blow. There was a sickening crack that rang in Emilie’s ears as Elizabeth’s skull crunched under the force of the blow. The wrench coming away bloody and dripping.   
  
“Look out, splicers!”   
  
Em turned around only to be cracked across the face with a pipe and she fell to the floor, hitting her head hard against the concrete. She heard Fontaine call out her name, sounding so very concerned and worried, the Irish lit back to his tone.It was all distant to her, background noise and then she was being lifted up and cradled. Atlas’s face came into view, the concern and worry clear to see and it truly did feel so genuine.   
  
He was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Her head was ringing from the blow to the head she’d received thanks to the splicer. Em opened her mouth to say something, but what could she say? What was there to say? This man had lied to her and stolen the one thing from her that she hadn’t let anyone take before. She hadn’t given him enough credit before, he really was a good thief.   
  
Her eyes fluttered again and this time they stayed shut. She could feel him pick her up, holding her close and whispering to her that everything was going to be fine and she was going to be fine. That they’d get the best doctor they had to look over her, sounding exactly how a worried lover would and should sound.   
  
His talents were truly wasted in the criminal life style, he should’ve been an actor. He certainly had her fooled. Fooled enough to trust him and fall in love. What a foolish woman she truly had been. To believe such a life.   
  
Atlas wasn’t real. He was a lie fabricated by Fontaine, the bastard really was smart. Smarter than she gave him credit for.   
  
The background noise began to fade away and so did the feeling of being carried. She could smell her blood, but soon even that sense left her. She wondered if this was what dying felt like or was that simply the pain of a broken heart?   
  
_“I told you,”_ Kelly’s voice whispered in her head. _“You always had a thing for dangerous men.”_   
  
What more could Em do, but laugh.

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Lamb’s Time is Over:_   
  
_I am told that Lamb has been seen in the streets… one of the Alpha Series was killed in the incident, and his bonded Sister stolen. But the Council has no time for a manhunt; Atlas swells the ranks of his marauders by the day. Regardless, Lamb’s name has already faded among the people. She is no more than a ghost who has forgotten to die._


	25. Heartaches

_Kyburz,_   
  
_Scoping the Gate:_   
  
_I spent the afternoon trying to get as close to Ryan’s gate as possible without making a spectacle of myself… He’s got it shielded six ways till Easter. There’s no way into that place. All I got for my trouble was the hairy eyeball from Ryan’s splicer mates. That’s the reward you get for trying to outsmart the best electrical engineer of our generation._

* * *

  
Kyburz rubbed tiredly at his face while he sat in his hidden area in Hephestus. It was a small access area that was used to check the pipes, but Kyburz had converted it into a makeshift office and work space for himself. Notes and paper was scattered around, piece of blue prints about the core, but nothing about Ryan’s Gate. Em had burnt all those up and he couldn’t find her. She was somewhere with Atlas.   
  
He froze a moment, recalling how he saw her for the first time since she’d been sunk in that department store. How different she’d looked and how much she loved Atlas. The smile she’d flashed the man, the love in her eyes, a look Kyburz had never seen her throw to him. She was in love with a man that wasn’t Kyburz and it had hurt. It had hurt so bad.   
  
At first, Kyburz had been angry. With himself, with her, with Atlas, then the anger melted away to sadness and finally acceptance. She didn’t love him, she was in love with another man. It didn’t mean she didn’t care about him and it didn’t mean he had to stop caring about her. Logically he knew it would be better for himself to stop loving her, but it wasn’t a switch he could just flip on and off. It would take time.   
  
In the end, Kyburz had resolved to his dilemma and decided to just be happy for her. She’d found her happiness and as her friend, he should be happy for her. So, he was. He was glad she’d found someone that brought her as much happiness as she brought him. Kyburz could only hope that this Atlas, whoever he was, treated Em well and loved her like she deserved.   
  
Kyburz looked down at his plans, at the diagrams he’d drawn out. No one knew about this project of his. He’d decided after he got over his sadness, that he would help Atlas’s bandits against Ryan. The man needed to die, he was only making things worse. Once Ryan was dead, Em would be safe, then she and Atlas could live their happy life. If he couldn’t have that life with Em, he’d do his part to help her get it instead.   
  
Crawling out of the cubby hole and sliding the door back in place, he crept back around, heading towards his office. He just wanted to check that it was locked, something was moved last time he’d gone in there, but he wasn’t sure what. He was just certain that he hadn’t been the one that had moved it.  
  
Kyburz walked up the stairs, picking up a clipboard on the way so he could do his daily rounds and check everything over. Part of Hephestus had started to flood. They had a pumping system trying to clear the water out, but it was gradually getting worse as the days had gone by. The pump couldn’t keep up with the ocean, hell, Kyburz and the rest of the workers that were left couldn’t keep up with the ocean. He doubted anyone could, it was a force of nature after all, they were barely making a dent in it.   
  
Glancing up when he heard a girlish laugh, he saw Pablo talking to a woman he didn’t recognise. She had short black hair that was cut into a stylish bob. A painted red smile on her face and she was talking pleasantly with Pablo. The man was clearly flirting with her and she seemed to reciprocating his advances. Jesus were people really that desperate for a role in the hay they were settling with anything? Simply put, she was way out of Pablo’s league.   
  
The paranoid side of Kyburz whispered that she was probably one of Ryan’s spies. The man had started to send spies down to interrogate people and see where their loyalties really lied. Kyburz himself had to dodge a few of those spies himself, not to mention the splicers that Ryan insisted on keeping around. Whenever he saw them he’d always shudder and turn away, their faces were so far gone now.   
  
Sighing he rubbed at the bridge between his nose, desperately trying to quieten his ever growing headache. The headaches had been getting worse as time had passed. They’d been getting more and more violent. He hadn’t been sleeping well and kept having this weird dreams. He could never remember them, but he had a feeling they were important in some way. He’d figure it out in the end, he knew he would, they had all the time in the world right? It wasn’t like he could go anywhere.   
  
The young woman was leaving now and Pablo came over with a big smile on his face.   
  
“Who was that?” Kyburz asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.   
  
Pablo shrugged. “Oh ya’ know… just a Betty lookin’ for a good time,” he laughed. “Rapture’s gone to hell… but hey, the Great Chain still cuts you a break!”

* * *

  
The light was bright when Em opened her eyes. She stared at the familiar broken and cracked ceiling that she’s been waking up to for the past two weeks in Atlas’s room. Well, their room and it wasn’t even Atlas was it? No, it wasn’t, it never had been.   
  
She slowly sat up, wincing a little and touching a hand gently to her head, feeling bandages wrapped around it. She supposed she should be grateful that the splicer had hit her. Em wasn’t certain she’d be able to keep up a convincing act until she could come up with some way to escape. Not just that, but she had to find Clayton. Jesus what had that bastard done to her baby? If he’d hurt him or worse, Em was going to kill him. She was going to make him suffer the worst death she could come up with. If he thought she’d been inventive with her kills and methods of torture before, he’d soon learn what it meant to hurt her the way he had.   
  
Jesus, everything she’d done for that man. All the people she’d hurt and killed because she thought it was the right thing to do. Because she’d been in love, because she’d been an idiot. Em couldn’t believe how much of a fool she’d been, to let her guard down like that, to let a man like him see every inch of her. Mind, body and soul. He probably knew her better than she knew herself and someone like Fontaine was not a person you wanted knowing you better than you knew yourself. He’d use it to his advantage.   
  
She wanted to laugh. Wasn’t that what he’d already done though? Played and manipulated and used her own compassion against her.   
  
The sadness was melting away and was quickly being replaced with anger. With hatred, it was burning like a furnace inside of her. A raging fire that was getting bigger by the minute. Everything he’d done, every gentle word, every kiss and every touch. It had all been lies. A game he was playing and getting a reward out of it at the same time. He probably laughed when she wasn’t around at how easy it had been, at his much of an idiot she’d been to believe him. To love him.   
  
A clattering caught her attention and she looked up startled, only to see her son climbing out of a Little Sister’s air vent. He was covered head to toe in soot and grime, but he was alive.  
  
“Clayton!” She cried, she couldn’t stop herself, getting to her feet and running to him. He’d jumped and stared at her a moment, before running to her. They held each other tightly. It had been two weeks since he’d seen her and since she’d seen him. She had to tell him, she had to tell him who Atlas was and about Elizabeth. All of it.  
  
“Mum!” He held her tightly, looking at her with his big brown eyes. “Mum, Atlas.. he isn’t.. he’s Fontaine, he’s-!”   
  
“I know…” she whispered, her lip trembled a little, but she would not allow herself to cry. “I know…. I.. when he killed Elizabeth.. he slipped out of character and…” she pulled him closer and stared ahead of herself. “And I heard his voice… I heard him…”   
  
“I found out in the department store…” Clayton admitted. “He had a secret room, Elizabeth found it and she told me. I tried to tell you, but he caught me and then Ryan’s men came and.. and I tried to kill him, but I couldn’t… and then Fontaine locked me away in his penthouse…”  
  
“That’s where you’ve been?!” Her eyes widened. “He kept you there?”   
  
“Took my supplies. I.. ah, I escaped by using the chimney in his bedroom,” he shrugged a little. “I climbed up the chimney and used its ventilation so I could get to another chimney in another apartment and escape.”  
  
“You used a chimney to…” Em blinked and pulled him close again, kissing the top of his head. “Oh, søntos… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t of been such an idiot… I…”   
  
“It’s okay, Mama…” he whispered, holding her tightly and burying his head in her shoulder. “I love you…”   
  
“I love you too…” she whispered, before pulling away. “We have to get out of here. Before that bastard comes back.”   
  
Clayton nodded and helped her gather up some things. She grabbed her guns and handed Clayton a spare hand cannon. Em took two short wave radios from storage and they tuned it to a different frequency that wasn’t used by any of Atlas’s crew or Ryan’s.   
  
“You better use the vents again,” she said, fastening the radio to her hip. “Just in case he’s down there.”   
  
Clayton nodded quickly climbing back into the vent. He turned around and poked his head out, staring back at her. “Be careful, Mama.”   
  
“I will, you be careful too,” she said kissing his forehead. “Now go, hurry!”   
  
Clayton nodded again disappearing down the vent once more. Em gathered up the rest of her things, even packing up her bag with some sentimental items that actually meant something to her. The red dress was one of those items, it was one of the few things she’d managed to keep this entire time. She slipped some food and more ammunition back into her backpack and then slipped it onto her back. She’d have to try and find a coat soon. Rapture was getting cold these days. She idly wondered what Hephestus looked like now. She idly wondered how many people were left.   
  
Grabbing her gun she made her way to the door, but froze as it was opened by Atlas- Fontaine. He was Fontaine. She had to remember that.   
  
Em blinked at him in surprise and he blinked back at her looking just as surprised, but soon a smile slipped onto his face.   
  
“It’s good to see you up,” he said moving towards her and looked her up and down, his face taking on a confused expression. “Um, you goin’ somewhere, luv’?” He placed his hands on her arms and leaned in, kissing her soft and gentle. Em sucked in a breath and willed herself not to flinch away, but she couldn’t force herself to respond to the kiss.   
  
He must of noticed because he pulled away looking a mixture of hurt and confused, rubbing her arm gently.   
  
“Are you alright?” He asked her, as she stepped away from him.   
  
“I’m fine..” She said softly, hand gripping tightly on the strap of her back pack.   
  
His gaze flickered to her white knuckles grip and a frown settled on his face. “You sure ‘bout that luv?” He walked over to her. “You look awful shaken dear, what ever’s the matter?”   
  
Such a good actor. She almost believed him even now, even when she knew the truth.   
  
“Too many ghosts…” she whispered taking a small step away from him.   
  
Something flickered across his face but it was gone and he smiled at her, gently taking her hand. His hands were soft, she’d always felt that was odd about him when he said he was a working man, but thought nothing more of it. Now she knew the truth.   
  
“You know I’d be lost without ya’… kept me sane these few years…”   
  
“It’s been longer than that, hasn’t it though?”  
  
“What?”   
  
“It’s not been these few years,” she pushed away from him, pulling her small pistol out of her waistband and aiming it right at his head. “It’s been so much longer…”   
  
“Whoa, whoa… easy now luv…” he held his hands up. “Angel.. why are you doing this..?” He pleaded, eyes boring in to her’s, he truly looked upset and distraught. “Please- don’t you love me? Why are you doing this.. what have I done wrong-?”   
  
“Cut the crap, Fontaine!” She snarled and his face fell to angry disbelief. “I did… all of this for you. I lied, I killed… I became a bomb maker, I did all of this for you!”   
  
“Yeah you did…” he slowly smirked, his original bronx accent back in place. It felt like a slap to face. “You were a smart girl.. ‘till ya’ fell in love.”  
  
“I never fell in love!”   
  
“Really?” He grinned before slipping back his Atlas voice, his face matching the act. “Are you sure about that darlin’? Christ you’re a looker, I’m a lucky man, you having the glad eye fer me.”   
  
“Stop it! Shut up!” She screamed her hand was shaking and the tears threatened to spill. “Stop using his voice! Stop it!”   
  
Frank took a few steps towards her still talking. “Easy luv’… you’re not gonna hurt me.. come on let’s talk. You know what I say to all those lads downstairs who think I’m mad as a March hare fer loving you? I tell ‘em… yeah she’s a right pain in the neck, but she’s a beauty… she means the world to me..”   
  
“Frank, please stop…”   
  
He paused, glancing at the floor. “Best liars always tell the truth, doll…” he flicked his eyes back to her wet ones. “Put the gun down. This doesn’t have to get any messier. Be smart.”   
  
“Well, it’s like you said…” she whispered, pulling the hammer of the gun back. “I was a smart girl… till I fell in love..”   
  
“With a man that ain’t even real!” He seethed. “Think this through, you kill me, you really think you’re gonna last long?”   
  
“Longer than I would if I stayed with you,” she looked him over. “It’s such a waste..” Em whispered. “How someone so handsome could be so ugly inside.. such a waste of a good face…”  
  
“Atlas ain’t real! He’s just an act! A con!” He took a few more steps towards her again. “Logically ya’ know that but emotionally…? Oh I don’t think you’re quite there yet,” he backed her against the wall. “Put the gun down darlin’, don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”   
  
Em smiled sweetly at him. “Oh Frank… I’m in love… but I’m not suicidal,” she aimed her gun at his right shoulder and fired.   
  
He yelled and fell backwards, the feeling of the bullet tearing through his skin brought tears to his eyes but he forced those back, until a boot crashed into his face.  
  
“I may not be ready to kill you yet, but give me enough time and I’ll have a bullet right between your eyes!”   
  
Quickly she ran, ran as fast as she could, Clayton would be waiting for her, she’d radio him and they’d meet. She heard yelling behind her as she ran, soon a familiar Irish brogue filled the air and her pace quickened. She was getting out of here one way or another. She would not die in Rapture. She’d die in the sunlight, not in the cold and dark.   
  
Emilie barely had time to register the movement before she felt a numbness and her vision had gone from one eye, then after the shock had gone there was just warm liquid and a burning excruciating pain unlike any she’d felt before.   
  
Stumbling away from the spider splicer that was giggling excitedly, she realised in horror that the hook was still embedded in her eye.   
  
Emilie wanted to pass out, but that would mean certain death, her legs were shaking badly. Clutching blindly at the wall, while watching the splicer pull out another hook, throwing it in the air and catching it, the grin never leaving its face.   
  
“Pretty, pretty! Let’s make you match!”   
  
Shakily, she reached for the handle of the hook still in her face and eye, gripping the handle and sucking in shallow breaths as she waited for the splicer to launch itself at her. Which it did, without fail, only just missing her and striking the wall instead. Emilie screamed in pain and anger, yanking the hook out of her face, taking her eye with it, before plunging it into the splicer’s neck. Again and again she continued to stab at the splicer’s throat with the hook, almost working herself up into a frenzy and screaming the entire time, almost like a war cry.   
  
Tears and blood mingled together, she got to her feet, shaking and unsteady, stumbling for a moment before she fell to her knees. Em felt herself falling forward, the adrenaline leaving her body and her consciousness with it. Her eye rolled up into her head and she collapsed to the floor completely, her last conscious thought registered footsteps coming towards her.

* * *

  
Kelly set down her suitcase on the floor of her new apartment and her new business venture. She glanced around the small space, looking over at the owner of said who room who grinned at her.   
  
Daniel Wales had clearly been splicing. His face looked awful and he leered at her, making Kelly glare right back at him and pull her coat that little bit closer to herself. The cafe where she’s been working had been burnt down and now this was her only option to earn money. Putting herself up for sale.   
  
The Pearl was once one of the ritziest places in Rapture, well it got a rebrand now as the less than tactful name, ‘The Pink Pearl’. The new part of the sign had been crudely written in pink paint on a piece of wood and stuck between the two words. Now there were peep shows and those who paid extra got extra.   
  
She hated it. She hated it, she hated him, she hated that this was what she’d been reduced to. Working as a prostitute, selling herself. Kelly would imagine people would be surprised by this, since she didn’t mind a good role in the hay, the difference was, now she couldn’t choose. Before, she’d been in control of who she slept with, now it would be whoever had paid the right amount.   
  
Kelly held her coat closed, staring around her new room, Daniel coughed into his hands behind her and she sighed, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to him.   
  
“Well,” he said, a grin on his face. “Hope you get settled. Think you can be ready in an hour?”   
  
A snarl nearly fell across her face, but she was able to hold it back. “Yes…” she replied carefully. “I’ll get changed.”  
  
“Good. We’re gonna have lots of customers,” he smirked at her before leaving her room finally.   
  
Kelly sat down on her new bed, staring down at the floor, hands still clutching her coat. She could feel the buzz of electrobolt under her skin and she was grateful to have the Plasmid. Horror stories often passed through these walls, the girls would sometimes go the cafes Kelly had worked at and they talked. Told stories about guys thinking that because they paid for it, meant that they could do anything. It was a complicated and delicate balance, but there were certain things you had to pay extra for. Everything had a price. You couldn’t pay for a bit of hand and then expect to be able to get everything else along with it. That wasn’t how this business worked.   
  
She made her hand light up with electricity a moment and grimaced a little. At least if things got out of hand and one of her customers forget what he paid for, she would be able to swiftly remind him. One of the girls had mentioned that they’d all spliced up with some form of Plasmid to protect themselves. Even if Daniel, the owner, didn’t want them to. They just didn’t tell him. Not like the person that attacked them could complain either, since you weren’t allowed to hurt the girls. Didn’t mean a few of them didn’t try.   
  
Sighing to herself she began unbuttoning her coat and hanging it up in her wardrobe. She did find it funny, that even in a war, people still wanted to get their leg over. You’d have men from both Atlas’s side and Ryan’s side coming in here to have a role in the hay.   
  
Kelly opened up her suitcase, grabbing some of her fancier undergarments, getting changed into those, before picking up a dressing gown. She tied it around herself, checked her hair and makeup in the mirror, slipped on a pair of heels and made her way downstairs. The place already had a lot of customers, women were leaning on walls showing off their curves and smiling sweetly at the men.   
  
She found her own wall out of the way and leaned on it, arms crossing and glaring out at the room. She watched men and women come and go. Smiles on their faces, though the women’s already seemed to be fake. An element of them that wasn’t real.   
  
“First time isn’t it?”   
  
Kelly jumped and turned to see a woman leaning against the wall with her now, a fan in hand, dressing gown open. She smirked a little when Kelly had jumped, looking her up and down, nodding to herself.   
  
“Yep,” she said, turning back to the room. “It’s your first time.”  
  
“I know what I’m doing,” Kelly countered back. “I used to do it all the time.”  
  
“Not like this you didn’t,” the woman replied. “Before you got to pick and choose, now you’ve got to grin and bear it. I’d suggest picking up a fan,” she said, waving her own fan in Kelly’s face. “Cover your face like me and use your eyes to draw them in.”   
  
Kelly rose an eyebrow at her. “Where are the fans kept?”   
  
“Over by Daniel’s office. Top floor,” she looked back at her and held her hand out to her. “Dusky Donovan.”   
  
“That can’t be your real name,” Kelly said taking her hand and shaking it.   
  
Donovan smirked. “Well of course not, suga’, but the boys love a girl with an exotic name. I’d suggest you pick your own. You’ll attract more attention that way. Also.. don’t do any needlin’ and if you do… make sure Danny never knows.”   
  
“Right,” Kelly pushed away from the wall, wrapping her arms around herself a moment. “Thanks…”   
  
“No problem,” Donovan replied. “Oh and relax, smile,” she winked at her. “You wanna get paid don’t you?”

* * *

  
_Kelly Christie,_   
  
_Working as a Siren:_   
  
_There’s a war on and Frank Fontaine, the bastard, is dead. So no job for me. At least no secretary job… but there are other ways like… Siren Alley… it’s the only choice I’ve got now. I guess even in a war people still want to get their leg over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... things aren't going well for Em. .. Sometimes I feel like I've been too mean, still hope you guys enjoy this one! It's always great to hear from you! :D You give me good feedback. 
> 
> Bet you weren't expecting Em to loose her eye... thought that would be a surprise like LaLorna was in the last story! :D


	26. Anything Goes

_Rosa Delores_   
  
_Hoping:_   
  
_I’ve got to get out of here… there’s something not right with Doctor Steinman, but he has the emergency access key for the bathyspheres… I can’t get past Ryan’s security without it… Damn it… I’ll have to try and sneak it when he’s not looking… well.. here’s hoping…_

* * *

  
Rosa peeked round the corner of the Steinman’s operating theatre. The man was hunched over a body of a woman, his scalpel working tirelessly. It slipped through the skin without hesitation or any resistance. The woman on the table shrieked and screamed, she was alive and fully conscious.   
  
She wanted to save the woman, she really did, but she had to take her chance. She had to get out of here. Ryan had tightened security recently, made it nearly impossible to go anywhere without it being recorded or you had to wait for some sort of clearance. She couldn’t wait that long, she had to get out of here, but there was only one way to do that.   
  
Carefully, Rosa slipped away from the gory image. She’s promised her sister after all, that if things got bad, if they got really bad, she’d leave the Medical Pavilion. Things had gotten bad. Really bad.   
  
Steinman was working on people and he was making them… she didn’t want to think about it. That woman on the table was evidence enough of what Steinman was up to. He and Cohen were working together. The insane artist would capture people and drop them off to Steinman and in return, Steinman would give the quote on quote ‘failed canvases’ back to Cohen. To do with as he pleased and Rosa felt like she was better off not knowing.  
  
Sneaking in to Steinman’s office, she began looking through everything. Draws, his coat pockets, his desk. Everything. She needed to find the emergency access key. The thing that would allow her to overload the security lockdown that Steinman had placed over the console. He’d claimed that it was what Ryan had requested, but she didn’t believe him.   
  
Rosa didn’t want to believe that her idol had turned into this horrific monster, but that was the reality of the situation. Diane had left the office all smiles. Her face was fixed, as far as she was concerned, why would she stay? Rosa wished she had and she wished she’d left with Diane. She wished she’d done a lot of things.   
  
In her desperation, she opened up the fridge that Steinman had moved into his office only just recently and screamed.   
  
Inside the fridge, were faces. Skinned and removed faces, all in various states of decay and condition. They were all women, a few of them had been mixed and matched with each other. Like a bunch of patchwork masks. They reminded Rosa of the fabric dolls you could get, before they were stitched together and stuffed, they’d lie on the work table like these faces. Emotionless and dead. Faces that had once smiled and laughed. Faces that would’ve and should’ve been attached to a person. A living, breathing person, who had feelings, dreams, emotions, hopes and fears.   
  
Now, here they would stay forever. A macabre piece of artwork for one psychopath to enjoy.   
  
Rosa’s hand slowly lowered from her face, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise up. She needed to get out of here, she needed to find her sister. She should’ve listened to her sister. She was right, just like Opal was always right.   
  
The sound of the door opening caught her attention. She slowly turned around and shortly afterwards a scream pierced the silence of the Medical Pavilion.

* * *

  
“Ryan’s Splicers are dragging the young woman off right now,” Kyburz informed the audio diary on his desk. “I’m certain she’s one of Ryan’s spies, sent to feel me out… I think she is… if I’m wrong, an innocent girl’ll end up on Ryan’s bloody trophy war,” he shuddered at the mere thought of the place. “If I’m right… well, I best be right. The device is almost finished. I can’t get soft now, I can’t!”   
  
He switched the diary off and slammed his fist against his desk. His wrist throbbed and ached, it screamed in agony and his old desk creaked under the strain. It was almost a warning, hinting that it wouldn’t be able to take any more hits like that. It was the not knowing that Kyburz struggled with. The idea of never knowing who you could trust and who you couldn’t. He’d even stopped talking to Pablo so much, after everything that was happening right now, people really had turned to their own selfish interests.   
  
Kyburz rubbed at his eyes tiredly, squeezing them shut and pressing his palms into his eyes. Spots of white and colour shone a moment in the darkness. Patterns danced and swirled in front of his eyes, but he opened them again, blinking those swirling patterns away.   
  
Pablo was standing at his door, watching him. The man didn’t move for a moment, he simply stood still, uncomfortably still. He almost looked like a corpse, Kyburz should know, he saw enough of them after all. On his way to work, in his work, it didn’t matter. There would be someone dead on the floor, blocking your path. He’d become so used to it, that he didn’t even register it, not really. He just walked past it and continued his walk to his destination.   
  
“Can I help you with something, Pablo?”   
  
Pablo blinked and slowly walked down to him, sitting heavily in the seat opposite Kyburz. “Adam is dead.”  
  
“I’ll add him to the list.”  
  
“No,” Pablo shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he looked up at Kyburz, eyes wide and desperate, but panic was shining in them. “Adam got killed my Stephan. Because… because he worked for Fontaine.”  
  
Kyburz blinked in surprise, but if anything this bit of information only strengthened his belief that he needed to get in there and kill Ryan. Somehow. A bullet to the head should do the trick, not like Ryan was bullet proof was he? The bastard may think he was, but he wasn’t. The hard bit was getting past Ryan’s damn security. God, he wished Em hadn’t been as good at her job as she was. Had been. He wasn’t even sure what tense he should be referring to her as.   
  
Was she alive, was she dead? Kyburz didn’t know. He doubted he’d ever truly know until this war was over and Ryan lay dead on the floor. Then at least he could head out and find her, at the moment it was too risky, If someone saw him, if anyone saw him poking around enemy territory, well, the bastards would kill him. Which bastards, Kyburz wasn’t sure. Atlas’s goons or Ryan’s goons? Could be both, could be neither. Maybe he was playing it too safe? Maybe he wasn’t risking enough?   
  
“Kyburz did you hear me?!” He blinked back to the real world and stared at Pablo.  
  
“I.. yeah. I heard you.”   
  
“The hell are we supposed to do,” Pablo put his head in his hands. “I hack the fucking vending machines…” he whispered before slamming his head against Kyburz’s desk. “Fuck! He’s gonna get me, he’s gonna get me and kill me… I’m gonna go up on that damn wall… I am, I know I am!”   
  
“Pablo, calm down,” Kyburz hissed, he was struggling with his own insecurities, he didn’t need Pablo making it worse. “No one’s ending up on his damn wall.”  
  
“You tell that to all the poor bastards that are already up there!”   
  
He rubbed at the bridge between his eyes. “Pablo, I promise you, everything is going to be fine,” he got up and placed his hand on his shoulder. “We keep our heads down and work together. We’ll be fine. I promise.”   
  
Pablo looked over his shoulder and frowned a moment. “What are you working on, back there?”   
  
“Nothing,” Kyburz dismissed him quickly, shaking his head. “Just a new security system, that’s all.”   
  
He didn’t look like he believed him, but he nodded his head and left. Said something about going back to work and then meeting up for a drink afterwards. The day moved by slowly, it felt like the minutes and hours ticked by slowly. He could almost count every time the minute hand moved. Every tick of the clock, pierced the silence of Hephestus and Kyburz found it grating on his nerves. It made him nervous, each little tick of the clock a constant reminder of how little of them were left now, simply because Kyburz could hear it. He’d never been able to hear the clock ticking before, it had always been drowned out by the sound of chatter and the footfalls of men walking over head.   
  
Now there was only the occasional heavy footfall of a Big Daddy, followed by the gentle little pit patters of a little girl’s bare feet.   
  
The Little Sisters… Kyburz shuddered at the thought of them. He stared down at his work, slamming the book closed and deciding he couldn’t continue to work for the rest of the day. Not when he had the images of a child gorging herself on ADAM, drinking up the sickly sweet smelling substance, which of course would always hold a coppery tang due to ADAM being in the blood.   
  
He signalled to Pablo that he was leaving when he passed by the man. Pablo shot him a funny look, but waved back regardless as Kyburz pulled his jacket on, walking up the stairs towards the exit.   
  
As he walked through towards the great hall that held circuit breaker for Ryan’s Gate, he saw that Ryan’s splicers and Karlosky were busy putting up a new body on the wall. He glanced at them casually, before doing a double take and freezing when he saw the body of the young woman from before being pinned to the wall. The one he’d sold out.  
  
Karlosky saw him, wandered over and lightly patted him on the arm.   
  
“Good work, Kyburz,” the man said, a smile on his face, shaking Kyburz’s arm a little reassuringly. “You caught a spy. She tried assassination attempt on Ryan. You stopped her,” he smacked him on the back. “Good man.”  
  
Kyburz opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring at her lifeless body, before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving. Her eyes, her goddamn eyes, they’d been wide open. They’d been staring at him, accusing him. It was his fault, it was all his fault.   
  
Once he reached the bathysphere, Kyburz sank to the floor, not even bothering with the seat and curled up in on himself. He clutched his knees tightly and stared ahead of himself, but all he could see where those lifeless eyes staring at him. They bored into what passed as a soul in this place.   
  
It was all his fault.

* * *

  
“Is she awake?”  
  
“Her eyes are still closed.”  
  
“She could be pretending!”  
  
“Why would she do that?”  
  
“Mum, can you hear me?”   
  
“Little ones, please move out of the way, I need to make sure she’s okay.”  
  
“Hold up, what exactly are you going to do to my mum?”   
  
Em groaned at the onslaught of voices, she opened her eyes, but could only see out of one. She saw Clayton standing protectively in front of her, four little girls were standing just in front of him and directly in front of him was a woman Em hadn’t seen in a year. People had suspected she was dead, but no, there was Tenenbaum, in the flesh and very much alive.   
  
“Clayton, you have my word,” the German scientist said. “I helped her injuries before I contacted you and I brought her here to keep her safe.”  
  
“No offence, but your word,” Clayton accused, pointing at her. “Means next to nothing! Did you forget what you’ve done?”  
  
Brigid’s face went dark and she nodded her head once. “Yes. I know, I am not much to speak of,” she agreed, looking back at him. “But I give you my word. I’m trying to correct things, to right the wrongs that I have done.”   
  
“Ledgers are hard to wash out when they’re covered in that much red, Brigid,” Em croaked, slowly sitting up so she could glare at the woman. “I should know. I’ve got my own.”   
  
“Mum!” Clayton span around and quickly hugged her, Em squeezing him back tightly.   
  
She didn’t know how she got here, wherever here was, but at least Em knew her son was still alive. That was all that mattered to her. Everything else she’d just have to learn about in time. Her right eye stung and ached, she reached a hand up to it, only to be met with bandages.  
  
“Are you alright, mum?” Clayton asked, his eyes looked over at her eye and he winced. “The.. the splicer he… he…”  
  
“His attack removed your eye,” Brigid said, with little remorse in her voice. “You did, however, kill him before you passed out.”  
  
“Why did you help me?” Em asked, glaring at her. “Why’d you help, it makes no sense, you disappear and then help me? I know we worked together for a time, but we weren’t exactly close, Brigid.”   
  
“No. We weren’t,” Brigid nodded before stepping to the side and gesturing to another a little girl, one with blonde hair and a little pinafore Em recognised. “But this little one I saved, told me that you once kept splicers away from her.”   
  
“Sally?” Emilie blinked with wide eyes. “You.. you remembered me? You’re alive?!”   
  
Sally got to her feet and walked over, looking up at Clayton for a moment before looking back at her. “I remembered you and the nice lady. You both kept me safe and…” she frowned. “I remember what the bad man did.”  
  
“Elizabeth…” Em whispered and Clayton looked startled at the name, but a sad look soon crossed his face. “He killed her…” she continued. “I… I didn’t do anything… I… how did you get away?”  
  
“He let me go.”   
  
She blinked once more or was it winked? Hard to tell now that she only had one eye. “H-he let you go? He let you go!?”   
  
Sally nodded her head. “Said something about a deal.. I don’t know.. I can’t remember much.”   
  
“Well… thank you, for getting Tenenbaum to save me.”   
  
“Mama Tenenbaum saved all of us,” Sally proclaimed proudly, before darting away to go and play with the other girls.  
  
Emilie looked up at Tenenbaum who had a very odd look on her face. She was staring at the children with something that resembled a motherly look, but also a great amount of guilt. Whenever she looked at the children, the guilt only seemed to grow with each passing second.  
  
 _Good_ , Em thought in the back of her mind. _She should feel guilty. After everything she’s done, she should feel guilt_.   
  
A frown crossed Em’s face because now she wasn’t sure who she was talking about. Herself or Tenenbaum. All those people Em had killed, all the weapons and bombs she’d made for Atlas- Fontaine. All because she’d been in love. Because she felt like he was the perfect man for her, she fell for him, for his lies. Blind to the truth because maybe she didn’t want to believe the truth. Didn’t want to believe that everyone in Rapture was awful and they always had an anterior motivation. It had just been so nice to find someone that was helping people, who had cared, but it was all an act.   
  
The hurt and the pain had left Em, she now only felt anger and guilt. Guilt at the things she’d done for that man and anger because she’d let herself be tricked in the first place.   
  
What was it Fontaine had said? She’d been a smart girl until she’d fallen in love. Well, damn it all, for once the bastard was right and she hated it. Loathed it, but at least she could be peaceful in the mind knowing she’d shot him. Right arm as well, since he couldn’t aim with his left.   
  
That was the thing about tricking someone to think that they loved you. When you have to get that close to someone, it’s very hard to keep some truths out of your act. Fontaine may know her well, maybe better than she knew herself, but Em now knew him better too. Understood some of his inner workings and motivations. One of the biggest ones being that the man himself was angry and cynical. He viewed the world so harshly that she did have to wonder if he’d ever experience any sort of happiness in his life.   
  
Regardless, he’d hurt her. He’d lied and manipulated her, so as far as she was concerned she was going to kill him, but not yet. Em still had to get better and re-learn how to shoot with just one eye. Now she was just grateful to be back with her son, everything else could wait while she recuperated. Then, she’d deal with Fontaine.   
  
Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. The bastard was about to learn why that saying existed.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_What have I done:_   
  
_Atlas.. oh dear god… Atlas is Fontaine. What have I done? What have I done?! All those people I’ve killed… I did it all for him… I… I’m a monster… oh god what have I done?!_


	27. Heartbreak Hotel

_Diane McClintock,_   
  
_Heroes and Criminals:_   
  
_I couldn’t believe how much things had changed since I left Doctor Steinman’s office. It’s like I don’t even recognise Rapture no more. I hear they’ve been rounding people in ‘Pollo Square… I asked Ryan how could he do such things to innocents. He said, “Innocents? If they haven’t chosen to defend Rapture, they’ve chosen to side with Atlas and his bandits”. So there are no innocents. There are heroes and there are criminals._

* * *

  
Kelly sat in one of the booths of the Mermaid Lounge, her hand gripped around her cup of coffee. It had been two months since she’d been working as a ‘Siren’ as they were called, in the Pink Pearl, down the newly named ‘Siren Alley’. The masons quarters had now become the red light district of Rapture. There was no other way to earn money now days. A lot of Rapture’s populace had started to put themselves up for sale. Only a few of the cafes and bars had stayed open. A few of the grocery stores. All the big business that sold alcohol were doing very well.   
  
Well, of course they were. In a war the only thing people care about is drink and getting their leg over. Or at least that was the only common ground anyone could find. She didn’t care anymore, so long as she was getting money.   
  
The door opened and in came Diane, the woman Kelly was meeting. She contacted Kelly and insisted on meeting up with her. Give that she was the only friend that Kelly had left who was easily reachable, she’d agreed, so here they were.   
  
“Sorry it took me so long, Kells,” Diane said, taking her seat opposite her. “It’s just been utter madness out there. Then there’s all this issue with my face and… Andrew can’t even stand to look at me anymore. He thinks I don’t notice but I do. Though he has promised we’ll be going to Fort Frolic for some time alone. I think it’s a wonderful idea- well, anyway,” she shook her head and smiled at her. “How have you been?”   
  
Kelly felt her eye twitch. “How have I been?” She echoed, her voice containing no emotion to it. “Gee, Diane, where to start? I mean, I’m a whore now,” she gestured to herself. “So I guess I got that going for me and I’m working for that slime, Daniel Wales. Half of my friends are probably dead, my best friend is a bomb maker and has now been labeled a terrorist- oh and I’m getting legions appearing on my legs. Other than that… I’m great!”   
  
Diane blinked a few times collecting all the information she’d just had thrown at her. “I- I’m sorry, Kelly… have things really gotten that bad?”  
  
“Look around you!” She gestured angrily. “This place used to be the mason’s quarters. Architects! Now? They’re a bunch of pimps and prostitutes. Men and women. The Pearl used to be one of the most sort after hotels in this place, but now? Now it’s a brothel, filled with staff and guests alike, spreading their legs for whoever can pay the right price,” she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Diane. “I can’t earn any money any other way, because no one is hiring. It’s either join in the war or entertain those who just want to catch a break from it for a bit.”  
  
“Is there really no other.. um…” Diane winced a little. “Work?”   
  
“No,” Kelly snapped a little bit, leaning away from her coffee and crossing her arms. She sighed and closed her eyes. “I know you’d think I would be comfortable with all of this… with this job, but I’m not. I could choose before, I can’t choose now.”   
  
“Maybe I could talk to Andrew?” Dian suggested with a smile, but Kelly’s look darkened.   
  
“I don’t want anything from him!” She snarled. “It’s his fault! It’s his fault I’m having to do this in the first place.”  
  
“Kelly that’s really not-.”  
  
“Yes it is!” She stood up from her seat, grabbing her purse on the way. “He had Fontaine killed, he kicked me out of a job and forced me to go looking for work at cafes and now, because he won’t stop a war, he’s forced me into this! This… awful work!” She gestured to herself and shook her head. “No. I don’t want anything from that man. I hope someone kills that bastard!”   
  
“You don’t really mean that!” Dian insisted. “And.. and don’t talk about my fiancé like that!”   
  
“Your fiancé?! You honestly think he’s going to marry you, Diane!?” Kelly stared at her, shaking her head. “God you’re an idiot. Ryan doesn’t love anyone but himself. He doesn’t give a damn about you, he’ll only go for the next youngest superstar and he already has!”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Come on, wake up Diane! The posters!” Kelly snapped. “Andrew Ryan’s favourite gal! For Jolene. You’re nothing to him. He doesn’t care about you, you need to leave him.”  
  
“He does love me! You’re just jealous, because you could never find a man. You could never settle down!”   
  
“I did find someone and Ryan killed him,” she snarled. “O’Riley’s dead!”  
  
“He’d joined Atlas, the people who did this to my face!” Diane pointed at her the visible scar. “They’ve ruined me!”   
  
“To ruin something it had to be halfway decent to begin with!”   
  
Kelly’s angry glare met Diane’s wide and watery eyes. She didn’t care. She’d lost the ability to give a damn about this side of things after living life so badly. Kelly understood more than ever why Atlas’s people were angry, why they were resorting to violence. Because there was no other option for them.   
  
“You can’t talk to me like that, I thought we were friends?!”   
  
“So did I!” She bit back, grabbing her purse and tossing a few dollars onto the work top. “But you’re too goddamn vain. You want to know something else?! Em was the one who made the bomb for the New Years attack!”  
  
“Em?” Diane stared at her, reaching a hand up to the scars on her face. “But.. how could she do this to me?! To anyone?!”  
  
“I told you! She’s angry!” Kelly snapped. “Angry at all of you! Because none of us listened! You especially didn’t and you’re still not listening!” She walked up to the door and gripped the handle tightly. “Don’t bother coming back again, Diane!”   
  
With that, Kelly stormed out. She was tired and angry, feeling betrayed and alone. How could Diane complain about her relationship when there was a war going on and people were dying? That their friends were out there and in trouble, or maybe they were even dead, but the only thing she cared about was her face. Her oh so precious face.   
  
Kelly slammed the door open to the Pink Pearl, it was only across from the Mermaid Lounge so that was the whole reason they’d chosen it in the first place. Maybe she was being selfish in her actions herself, but Kelly didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to care about anyone but herself now days. It was every man for themselves and if she had to cut ties to do that, well, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

* * *

  
Opal tightened her grip on her handbag as they got closer and closer to the medical pavilion. She always felt sick coming here. This time Daniel was with her, he was squeezing her hand tightly to reassure her, eyes wide and flickering from dark corner to dark corner, who knew what could be lurking in the shadows now.   
  
“I’m sure she’s okay,” he tried reassuring Opal as they stood before entrance to the medical pavilion, her finger hovered over the button to open the doors.   
  
She took a breath, closing her eyes. “Radio silence for two weeks? That’s not like my sister.”  
  
“Maybe she’s been busy?” Daniel said softly. “Medical have been busier lately with all the random splicer attacks.”   
  
Opal looked at him pleadingly. “Daniel, love, I know you’re trying to be comforting but… can you please stop… don’t give me false hope.”   
  
He nodded softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance.   
  
Opal pressed the button and the doors slid open, the light overhead flickered on and they both stared.   
  
‘Above all do no harm! J.S.Stienman’ was written on the floor. In blood.   
  
Opal and Daniel looked at each other, before both pulling their respected weapons out. Opal had a small pearl handled lady smith and Daniel had a simple revolver.  
  
Carefully, they began moving around, heading to Steinman’s area of the medical pavilion, Daniel covering behind while Opal handled the front, leading the way.   
  
The medical pavilion was a mess. The tiles; dirty and damaged, the smell of rot, decay and copper filled the air. As well as that sickly sweet ADAM smell that lingered just underneath. Messages were scrawled on the walls, some looked like warnings, others looked like written thoughts of a madman.   
  
Daniel stopped to read one, mumbling the words under his breath. “ADAM denies us any excuse not to be beautiful…” he frowned glancing at Opal who stared at the words. “What the hell happened here?”   
  
Opal glanced at the words and glared at them. “Steinman happened.”  
  
“You don’t like him, do you?”  
  
“There’s always been something wrong with that man. Could be the ADAM has finally let him do it.”   
  
The husband and wife walked up to the air lock with Steinman’s Aesthetic Ideals glowing above them; red and white neon, like blood and bone. One of the lights flickered a little and almost went out, but it stayed on afterwards.   
  
They pushed through into the corridor, Steinman’s voice coming over the PA system, proclaiming the amazing properties of ADAM and how everyone could be beautiful now. There were no more limitations or hang ups.  
  
Opal grimaced entering the second part of Steinman’s domain, more words written on the floor with photos of women cut up and stuck together haphazardly. Like a collage of morbid ideas and theories. One of the images was declared perfect, with the word itself written in blood across the image. It looked like terrible finger painting.   
  
She shuddered slightly. “I told Rosa to leave as soon as Steinman started to twitch funny! What the hell was she thinking?!”   
  
They turned towards the corridor and froze.   
  
Then a heartbroken and crushed wail filled the air, Opal collapsing to the floor, her knees making a cracking sound when they hit the tile. Daniel was shaking slightly and trying very hard not to throw up. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, it couldn’t compute with his mind, but there it was. There she was.   
  
There was Rosa… well, what was recognisable. She was sat rigid in a wheelchair, head shaved, face a mess and mouth open in a silent scream. Her skin had been bleached white and porcelain, with little patches of her real skin tone showing through. What was worse and Daniel hoped Opal didn’t notice, but some of the marks on her face had scarred and faded. Meaning she’d been alive long enough to heal and scar over.   
  
Opal had stumbled over to her sister, sobbing and hovering her hands over her face, not being able to touch her. Daniel slowly followed keeping his distance a moment, but at the sound of footsteps and muttering, he darted around the corner to find Steinman himself. He was casually walking towards them. Some of his hair had fallen out in clumps, blood was dripping from his face and clothing, some of it was leaking from his eyes and nose. It looked like he’d taken his own scalpel to his face, like he’d tided it up or tried to. A few growths had started to gather around his eyes, boils and sores accompanied them. His eyes darted around, unfocused and constantly moving, looking watery and glassy.   
  
“Yes, Aphrodite, that’s a beautiful idea.. symmetry, symmetry… beauty… maybe I could work with Cohen again… then again, maybe not. The man is quite insane… I have a reputation to think of…”   
  
Daniel didn’t hesitated, he started to fire shots at Steinman.   
  
“You son of a bitch! How could you?!”   
  
Steinman looked a little startled, a bullet clipped his shoulder and he darted into a hole in the wall.   
  
“He’s ugly! Ugly, Aphrodite! So ugly!” He was screaming. “But I can fix him… make him beautiful like the rest of us… oh yes, yes!” He jumped back into view with a machine gun, grinning widely, gums black and a few teeth missing. “The doctor will see you now!” He screamed firing the machine gun, Daniel darted back round the corner, quickly stopping Opal who looked determined and a littler feral.   
  
“We have to go!” He yelled, tugging her away.   
  
“I’m going to kill him for what he’s done!”   
  
“We have to go, he’s got a machine gun!”   
  
He pulled her along down the corridor, Steinman’s cried could still be heard as he chased after them.   
  
“He killed my sister!”  
  
“I know!”  
  
“We can’t leave her there!”  
  
“Opal, we’ll die! We have to go! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but Rosa’s gone. She’s gone!”   
  
A spray of bullets wizzed past Daniel’s head and he yelped, ducking slightly and quickly dragging Opal who was firing her gun now at Steinman, towards the medical pavilions exit and entrance. The main hall was filled with what Daniel assumed had been the medical staff and patients, now they were just a bunch of spliced up lunatics, some had clearly even had work done on them by Steinman. Cuts and scars covering their faces, face lifts and nose jobs, botched and distorted, looking more like a Picaso painting then real people.   
  
They were screaming and yelling at them, sticky blood covered hands tried grabbing at them as they ran towards the bathysphere dock. They were yelling about being beautiful and being fixed by Steinman.   
  
Daniel shot a few that got in the way, but he was running low, so was Opal. Despite all odds they were able to scramble into the bathysphere, slamming the door and air locking it, before Daniel pulled the lever and they sank into ocean.   
  
He took a few shaky breaths as he came down from the adrenaline, slipping the gun away and wrapping his arms around Opal who was sobbing softly. He pulled her closer, not saying anything, just stroking her hair and softly kissing her forehead. What could he possibly say? I’m sorry? It hardly seemed to cut it. Though it would seem he didn’t need words to express himself in this moment, his actions spoke clearly enough.   
  
As if he had any more problems to deal with, well this was pushing what he was comfortable coping with. As if the psychos on ADAM were bad enough, now there was this lunatic.   
  
Frank took a drag from his cigarette, the one thing that seemed to be keeping him sane in recent times, especially since everything had rather spectacularly blew up in his face. Even for him, with jobs going wrong on the surface, it had never been quite like this. The only good thing was he at least had the Ace in hand.   
  
His eyes glided over the body of Molly, the fifth one he’d found murdered in exactly the same way. Of course, everyone else just saw a girl hanging and assumed that she couldn’t go on, but that’s not what this was. There was no note and Molly certainly wasn’t the type. She’d believed in the Atlas cause too much, she wouldn’t of killed herself. There was also a few other details, like the length of the rope, too short really, it wouldn’t of broken her neck.   
  
People moved behind him and he turned to watch his people moving boxes out and stacking them as they finished another raid. They ignored the body, like the nearly did with any body that was found. It had been a shock to see Molly, but they soon got over it and moved on. They didn’t even look at her now. Probably didn’t register her as a body, more as an obstacle.   
  
Sighing to himself, Frank rubbed at the place between his eyes. How goddamn wonderful. Because lunatics, leaks and missing, most likely severely pissed off, Norwegian engineer. Not to mention her goddamn kid had escaped too.   
  
Frank’s gaze darkened a little as he thought back to when he’d spotted Clayton, with that lunatic splicer of his, running away. He hadn’t even known the kid had broken out of his penthouse, he wasn’t even sure how the little bastard had managed it either. His crazy splicer had attacked him, but Clayton had called him off and told him to run and run they did. Fontaine had belittled himself, he should’ve checked on the kid sooner, but he’d been shot and more concerned about finding Em. He’d foolishly believed that she was the dangerous one, completely forgot Clayton and maybe didn’t see him as being much trouble. Boy was he wrong.   
  
Glancing down at his lit cigarette, the red cherry glowed back at him reminding him of a Big Daddy when it got pissed off, he thought about the audio diary he’d made. He expressed his deep displeasure of the kid escaping and his own goddamn weakness, because yes, now, apparently, Fontaine had a weakness. A ten year old little kid.  
  
 _“Fuck! Lost the kid, lost the damn kid! His.. splicer body guard ‘bout almost took my head off! I shot at him but missed. Shoulda… shoulda just killed the brat. He ain’t worth this con goin’ busto, nothin’ is worth this con goin’ busto! I couldn’t do it though… had a perfect chance, look on Clay’s face he expected me ta kill him but…I couldn’t. I locked him away was gonna keep him there and give ‘im some food every few hours… until I got him to trust me again.. Then I was gonna let him out but he bolted and I don’t know where the hell he is! I’ve got to find him and this time… this time I ain’t makin’ the same mistake.”_   
  
That final promise echoed in his head. He doubted that he could actually keep it, however. Clayton was special. Important. He’d truly meant it when he’d said to the kid that he saw him as the son he’d never had. At the time, Fontaine had detested, no, hated the sincerity in those words when he spoke them. They weren’t a lie. They weren’t some clever trick to try and get the boy on his side, they were honest and heartfelt. What an unfortunate predicament.   
  
Frank swore he heard Limey in the back of his head, laughing at him. Her mocking words of ‘don’t get attached’ ringing in his head, but then Reggie would be to say it was okay. That if the kid was important to him, that was fine. He was his kid and so long as Frank was around, no one would be touching his kid. Fontaine very much wanted to argue with the ghosts in his head. He wasn’t concerned about what anyone else would do to the boy, he was more concerned about what he’d do to Clayton. Hadn’t he messed the kid up enough? The image of ten year old Clayton, covered head to toe in blood, a gun clutched in his shaking hands with tears making clean tracks down his face, was an image that was branded into his head. He couldn’t get it out, because in that moment the boy was so hauntingly similar.   
  
Whilst, yes, it was true Fontaine had always seen a little bit of himself in Clayton, mostly in looks alone though occasionally an uglier side of his personality would rise, for the most part, Clayton was just a little boy. Just a kid who looked like him, but in that moment, Clayton was _him_. He was the scared and angry kid who’d seen and done too much in his childhood to be really called a child anymore.   
  
Frank had always been a good thief, but stealing a child’s innocence like that… well, it wasn’t like it was something he could just return. What was done was done, he didn’t know why it was bothering him so much, he’d taught that kid how to survive. He’d saved him, taught him everything he knew, that kid owed him his life.   
  
Glancing up to look at the windows that let in the light of the ocean or lack there off, the water moved and rippled, creating shadowed ripples across Frank’s face and the surrounding area. These quiet moments gave him a time to collected himself and rearrange his thoughts, to actually think like himself and not like Atlas. He’d been playing this con so long, it was getting increasingly difficult to see between the blurred lines. Where did Frank end and Atlas begin? Wasn’t that a question?   
  
Maybe the reason he was truly concerned about Clayton, was because Frank already knew what an angry and scared kid became. He was looking at one after all or the product of one at least.   
  
He took a final drag of his cigarette and let it drop to the floor, crushing it under his foot and the smoke swirled to the ceiling.   
  
Never mind any of his inner and conflicting feelings about Clayton, lets not even go down the road of Jack… or the Little Sisters.  
  
Frank grimaced and rubbed at his eyes, they stung a little, the unfortunate side effect of lack of sleep. It was hard to sleep in Rapture now days, there was always some sort of noise. Wether it be the sound of water leaking through a crack, a few gun shots or explosions, the low groan of a Big Daddy and its darling Little Sister singing about angels. There was always noise, though he was starting to get used to blocking it out.   
  
Looking back at Molly and her face, the expression clearly one of panic and horror, Frank knew there was something down here… something worse than splicers. Hell, something worse than himself or Ryan. Wasn’t that a horrifying thought?   
  
Rapture was just filled with horrifying secrets, wasn’t it? The further you dug, the more you uncovered and in truth, Fontaine felt that most of these new discoveries needed to be left buried. In this case, there was a goddamn mass murderer in Rapture. Someone who was just ‘evil’, someone who held no remorse, no conscious. Frank was no saint, not by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn’t even going to pretend to himself that he was, but these things… these… monsters in human form… He looked back at Molly and shuddered just a little, her eyes were empty and dead, yet they still held clear the last emotion she’d ever felt. Clear, undeniable, horror.   
  
At the orphanage where Frank had grown up, the nuns would talk about souls. How everyone had one and that all souls were redeemable, only god could judge you and truly condemn you. Didn’t exactly stop those stuck up bitches from judging Frank, his knuckles sure as hell remembered their judgement, but he’d never really believed in all that bogus nonsense. Faith, religion, god? It was just the greatest con ever created by human kind and it was probably the original con.   
  
If there is a god and Frank has seen more evidence to the contrary than in support before the age of ten, then these monster… they would surly be judged. Frank didn’t think you could even call them people, they made the splicers look tame.   
  
Turning away from the body, Fontaine left with his followers, sneaking back through the many passages and secret ways they’d built in order to get by without Ryan noticing. Sometimes they wanted him to know and other times they wanted to get by without any hassle, so they did what they could.   
  
He wasn’t too keen on the way he was living, eating out of a can and sitting at the edge of a makeshift bed, felt all too much like his time on the streets. History repeating itself in one glorious mess. The funniest bit was both times had been his choice and he was starting to feel that he was going to regret both of those times.   
  
Frank wondered to himself why he didn’t just use the Ace already, well, he wanted that to be a last resort. No point using it when he had other solutions and the war wasn’t that bad. It had picked up nicely, the splicers were certainly making it easier for him. People had spliced up that hadn’t even touched the stuff and first and now he had his own secret Plasmid lab behind one of the grocery stores in the newly named ‘Siren Alley’, so it wasn’t going to bad.   
  
When Frank disappeared upstairs to his room and office, he expected to see many things, his work table and bed, but certainly not Augustus Sinclair looking exceptionally happy. Probably the best mood he’d seen him in, certainly looked better than what he had been on New Years Eve.   
  
Whatever good mood he’d been able to salvage beforehand was snuffed out in an instant at the sight of the other man. Especially when that smile just seemed to get bigger and curl up his face at the sight of Frank.   
  
“Hello, Atlas,” Sinclair stood up and offered his hand out to him. “The name’s Augustus Sinclair, sport.”  
  
“I know who ya’ are, Sinclair,” he snarled, the venom in his voice not even an act by this point. Why did have to be Sinclair? Of all people it could possibly be, why him? “What do ya’ want? How’d you even get in here? Ya’ not exactly the.. sneaky sort.”   
  
Sinclair laughed and Fontaine felt his eye twitch in irritation. “Awful blunt aren’t ya’ son?”   
  
Deciding not to dignify that with any sort of response, Frank moved round him to his seat behind his desk, Sinclair dropped his hand and sat opposite him. As Fontaine glared across the table at him, Sinclair merely smiled that charming and quite frankly irritating smile at him. That was one of the things he’d always hated about Augustus Sinclair. How the man just seemed to bounce back after an insult, almost like he wasn’t bothered by it. Hell, Fontaine could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Sinclair bothered by something.   
  
“I don’t usually keep company like this. Specially to the likes of you.”   
  
“Of course,” Sinclair simpered. “You’re the voice of the people and I’m the lowly businessman.”   
  
Frank’s lips twitched up in an almost smile. “Something like that. Why are you here, Sinclair?”   
  
“I think you and I can do business, son. For a reasonable fee o’ course.”   
  
Deals. Of course, that was how Sinclair operated.   
  
“Nothin’s a ‘reasonable price’ with you, Sinclair,” he should know. The money he had to spend just to get those damn test subjects. Total rip off.   
  
“Now Atlas, no need for the cold shoulder,” Sinclair soothed, the smile only seeming to grow on his smug face. “A lot of people just tryna’ make a honest livin’ could be hurt in the crossfire in yours and Ryan’s little war.”   
  
“I don’t think my people will be too thrilled at the idea of workin’ with a con man like you.”   
  
Sinclair’s smile only grew and it made Frank uncomfortable. It was the sort of smile that said, no _screamed_ , ‘I know something you don’t know’ and it was really starting to piss him off. He missed Reggie and Limey more than ever right now. Hell, he wished he’d still had Em by his side because wouldn’t this little interaction go a lot differently if she was here.   
  
“You wound me. Though you seem to know an awful lot about me and I don’t know a thing about you, son.”   
  
“Probably because I didn’t plaster me name across the city until now."   
  
“Hmm. Now I think we both know that’s not true,” Sinclair said, looking at his nails for a brief moment, the smirk on his face reminding Frank just a little too much of his own.   
  
“What do ya’ mean?”  
  
“Well, the longest cons are always the best,” he looked at him, smiling innocently. Frank stood up, slamming his hands on his desk and glaring at Sinclair.   
  
“ ’Splain ya’self!”   
  
“It’s simple chief,” Sinclair hummed blowing smoke to the ceiling and cracking a grin at Frank. “You make this deal with me and I won’t tell your many followers out there how great you’d look bald.”

* * *

  
_Frank Fontaine_   
  
_Mass Murderer:_   
  
_Ryan’s precious Rapture… home of the best and brightest… can’t be that bright, they let a goddamn mass murderer in. These bastards ain’t high on ADAM, they ain’t spliced up… they just… are. He strangles women, noticed a few dead bodies hanging round… too similar ta be coincidence. Gotta deal with this bastard quick. He’s picking off some of my people and good old Atlas can’t have that…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Mass Murderer was the term used in the 40s/50s to describe a Serial Killer, until the late 70s when the term Serial Killer was invented. Mass Murderer is a term that is now used to describe one lone event with multiple victims, instead of a series of murders conducted over a number of months or years.


	28. The End of the World

_Bill McDonagh,_   
  
_Genetic Arms Race:_   
  
_I begged Mister Ryan to hand Fontaine Futuristics over to Atlas’s boys as a peace offering, but the stupid so won’t listen to reason. ‘Stead he’s just splicing his mob up, giving them more and tougher Plasmids. There’s an arm race on here in Rapture, but it’s not about who can build the best guns and the biggest bombs. It’s about who can become less of a man and more of a monster…_

* * *

  
Fontaine mentally clapped himself on the back for his ability to restrain himself from climbing across the table and snapping Sinclair’s neck right then and there. Sinclair looked awful smug despite the fact he probably knew his life was in danger right now and how easy it would be for Frank to kill him. He’d sort out what to tell the others downstairs, he was more a shoot first and explain the dead body later kind of guy anyway. Though, truth be told, he didn’t think anyone would be all that upset about him doing Sinclair in. Hell, they’d probably throw a party.   
  
As if sensing the inner turmoil and urge to commit violent murder, Sinclair’s smile lost its smugness, but if anything it seemed to get a little bit more condescending.   
  
“Now son, let’s not get hostile.”   
  
“You ain’t even seen hostile, Sinclair,” Frank grit between his teeth, his hands clenched firmly by his sides. Sinclair didn’t seem too concerned. “I’d like to think you’d want to keep that accent of yours up. Cant afford the wrong people hearing’ you. I will admit, Chief, it’s damn good, even had me fooled fer a quick minute.”   
  
“Then I’ll have Ryan chasin’ his own tail.”  
  
“Not just him. It’s a real grifters ace, Frank,” Fontaine wanted to laugh. If only Sinclair knew. “I’m impressed. I was thinkin’ you and I could do business.”  
  
“Hm. Where have I heard that before?” Frank rolled his eyes, sitting back down on his seat and taking a cigarette out. He needed something to do with his hands so they didn’t become wrapped around Sinclair’s neck. “Just tell me, why’d I want to do business with a white collar like ya’self?”   
  
“Well, you need men right? Plasmids?” Sinclair rose an eyebrow. “I may have a new place… see, most of your boys are being shipped off to the Big Daddy development and I’ve still got a firm hold in that department. I’m thinkin’ they go out for Plasmid trials and… get lost in transit?”  
  
“And in return I’d be giving you..?”  
  
“Just avoidin’ my business while you rampage across the city.”   
  
He frowned at Sinclair. Whilst it would be nice to get some of his people back, he wasn’t too sure how the people he still had would react. Not to mention there was that new little problem of a mass murderer to handle. Christ, Frank was going to need a drink after this.   
  
“I don’t know if you know this, Sinclair, but a lot of those lads and lasses down there are pretty angry with ya’.”   
  
“And all of ‘em are plenty angry with you… the real you…” he countered, fixing Frank with an unwavering look. “It would be a shame for this con of yours to crumbling down. I was rather looking forward to seeing how this panned out.”   
  
“You might not like how it ends,” Frank promised darkly.   
  
“And you just might.”   
  
Well, he couldn’t deny that. He was hoping it would end with him being victorious and Ryan dead at his feet. The genetic key for Rapture in the palm of his hand and millions of shipments of ADAM going up to the surface. Then he could retire peacefully to the tropical island he had in mind while the rest of the world tore itself apart through addiction insanity. All the while, Frank’s bank account would be filling up nicely.   
  
Still, even if the ADAM didn’t take off as well on the surface, which he was certain it would, then he’d still be in the know that Ryan was good and dead. It was the little things that kept him going.   
  
“Why are you doing this, Augustus?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I mean, you always been one for underhand games, but this is a little far. Even for you.”   
  
Sinclair’s smile left his face, probably for the first time since the two conmen had reunited. “Funny you should ask that,” he laughed, sounding almost bitter. “Thanks to you goin’ and gettin’ ya’self killed…” he gave him a pointed look. “I’ve been left with some of your messes to deal with. All curtesy of Ryan. Havin’ to work with the damn idiot, Gilbert Alexander.”   
  
Frank hummed in understanding, staring at the end of his cigarette as he listened. “Yeah, I don’t miss him.”  
  
“Yeah, well, lucky you,” Sinclair sighed and rubbed his eyes. “But anyway. Now that Suchong’s dead-.”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
Jesus he’d really been out of the loop hadn’t he? There would’ve been a time that he’d found all this stuff out before anyone, but now days there was so few of them left and so few times to escape and find stuff out… well, he was running thin on information. Damn shame Clayton up and found out who he was. The kid was always good at finding stuff out because the little bastard could fit in the air vents. Nobody thought to check the air vents.   
  
“Figured you’d know about that.”   
  
“This ain’t exactly a hub of information, Sinclair,” he bit back. “Besides, I’ve been busy,” Frank put on the biggest, cheesiest smile he could muster. “Fighting fer the people and all that. For our rights and our wages.”   
  
Sinclair sniggered a little, nodding his head in amusement. “Yeah, I knew it was too good to be true. There ain’t a fella’ alive who’s that selfless.”   
  
“Don’t we know it. Anyway, you were tellin’ me ‘bout Suchong?”  
  
“Oh,” Augustus nodded. “Let’s just say it’s a tale as old as time, chief. Man creates homicidal creatures and then gets killed by ‘em. One of his precious Big Daddies ran him through with a drill. Pinned him to his desk. Still there if I recall right,” he shrugged a little. “Idiot slapped a Little Sister.”  
  
“Let me guess, Alpha series didn’t like that?”   
  
“Oh no, ya’ got it wrong,” Sinclair waved his hand. “It was one of those normal ones. He’d been tryin’ to form a protection bond between the two… it hadn’t been going well.”   
  
Frank gave him a flat look. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way of puttin’ it,” he took a drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke to the ceiling. “You still ain’t answered my question, Augustus.”  
  
“Ryan.” “Huh?” Sinclair glared at him hotly. “You want to know why I’m doin’ this, son, it’s because of goddamn Andrew Ryan. The bastard. Moved all of your problems on to me to solve. Not to mention the… children, Frank,” he glared at him. “The goddamn children.”   
  
Fontaine forced the wince down and instead met Sinclair’s glare with one of his own. “Don’t tell me you’re getting torn up over a few measly orphans?”   
  
“Except they aren’t orphans anymore, Frank.”  
  
“The hell you talkin’ about?”  
  
“Ryan’s stealing children,” Sinclair deadpanned, his mouth in a thin tight line. “Stealin’ them right out their homes now days. Before hand it used to be done undercover, but after your attack on New Years, well, all bets are off. Ryan’s doin’ anything he can to win. Even the unspeakable.”   
  
“He was doing that before,” Fontaine countered. “Only difference is, now you can’t ignore it because it’s happening right in front of ya’. Hell, you’re part of it now,” he let a smile flash across his face. “Dontcha just love irony? The world’s gotta twisted sense of humour when ya’ think ‘bout it.”  
  
“It’s hilarious.”  
  
“Don’t look so down in the mouth, Augustus,” Fontaine drawled. “By the sounds of things, you ain’t doin’ too bad. Despite the shit show goin’ on around ya’, but you always were able to doge the carnage, weren’t you Sinclair?” He smirked and shook his head. “Jesus. I took ya’ for a bit of a bleedin’ heart, but I didn’t take ya’ for a sap.”   
  
“Do we have a deal or not?”   
  
“Thought hearts were liability to you?”   
  
“If we want to talk liabilities, Frank,” Sinclair snarled at him. “Then maybe we should discuss that Lokken boy.”  
  
Frank snapped his mouth shut and glared at him. His eyes narrowed and Sinclair’s smile curled up at the corners of his mouth. He knew he got Fontaine the moment he mentioned the brat. Damn kid, even when he wasn’t here he was a pain in the ass. Should’ve killed him when he had the chance, before he became attached to the kid. Life would’ve been so much easier.   
  
“We have a deal, Sinclair,” Fontaine mumbled, glaring at his table top, before looking back up at him. “I expect my men soon.”   
  
“Oh you will,” Sinclair replied, getting up. “That I promise you.”  
  
“No tricks,” he warned. “Otherwise I’ll be headin’ down to trash your business myself.”

* * *

  
Sullivan stared down at the body in the water, he couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it.   
  
Anna Culpepper’s eyes stared back at him from underneath the bath water, they were occasionally obscured by soap bubbles that had managed to remain in the bathtub even after all her splashing.   
  
He remembered that she’d seemed so confused to see him and maybe even outraged as she’d been bathing herself at the time. Almost moving on legs not his own, Sullivan had crossed over to her, placing his hands on her head and pushed her down. Her legs had kicked out and she’d thrashed under the water. Her hands had come up to grab and pull at his arm, she’d tried to yank his hands away and out of her hair, but to no avail.   
  
Sullivan had watched the bubbles slip out of her mouth, each bubble a little pocket of air rising to the surface. Each pocket a little source of her life. He’d watched all of her life bubble up to the surface and leave her body. The thrashing had stopped, the kicks and the failed attempts at screams. Slowly, it had all stopped and she’d finally lay still. He’d kept his hand on her head just in case, making sure that she was really dead, before letting go.   
  
Anna Culpepper didn’t rise out of the water, she lay at the bottom of the bathtub, staring at him and that’s where he was now. Staring down at her and her lifeless body, while her lifeless eyes stared back at him. Even though she was dead, she still seemed to be accusing him. Blaming him. It was all his fault.   
  
Reflecting back on Rapture and how things had gone, he couldn’t deny it. What was it Sinclair had said? Sometimes the enables are worse than the perpetrators? He hated it when that bastard was right. Sinclair seemed to be right about a lot of stuff and he’d told them as such. No, not by speaking, just by those little glances and looks. The ones that said it all, Augustus Sinclair had never needed words to get across his smugness. He’d only needed a smile.   
  
The water on Sullivan’s sleeves dripped down to the floor, the dripping sound the only sound in the entire apartment. The splashing and yelling had been so loud, the water had gotten everywhere and then there was nothing but silence. Now all Sullivan could hear was the drip, drip, drip of the water rolling down his skin or off the sleeves of his suit.   
  
When Ryan had ordered the hit on Culpepper, Sullivan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Something about the dizzy twist writing a song or two they Ryan didn’t like. Usually songs about how Ryan had damned them all and Cohen was just a glorified stableboy who tidied it up with a catchy song. Not that it was doing much good recently, especially with how everything was going. Ryan was even contemplating asking Cohen to lock up Fort Frolic.   
  
Sullivan shook his head, looking back at the accusing eyes of Culpepper, taking a few steps away, his feet splashing in the puddles as he went. He tried his best to ignore that. He didn’t want to think about why there were puddles on the floor.   
  
He walked back through her apartment and his hand traced over the door handle, freezing a moment when he noticed something sitting on the sofa. A red and black knitted blanket. It wasn’t finished, it was real pretty… he shouldn’t just… leave it here. He shouldn’t leave it here all by itself, it just wouldn’t be right. It couldn’t be proper.  
  
It was soft to the touch when he picked it up, holding it close to himself as he stared down at the red and black blanket. Yeah, it was real pretty, even better up-close. He stared at it, his eyes wondering over the blanket, before looking back towards the bathroom.   
  
Wasn’t right… it wasn’t right leaving it here. Leaving it lying here all by itself…

* * *

  
It was quiet in the safe house, the girls were all asleep and so was Clayton. Tenenbaum was awake, tinkering away with her science in her separate room. Em would occasionally hear the bottles or vials being moved around but other than that, there was no sound inside the safe house.   
  
The screeches and cries of the splicers and people wondering above them would occasionally be heard through the many vents that entered this place. Sometimes the sound of maniacal laughter could also be heard, but it wasn’t as common. Em was secretly grateful for that, she didn’t like hearing that laughter. It would send chills down her spine and remind her of the department store. Now days, most of Rapture reminded her of the department store.   
  
Emilie stared down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them. Whenever she opened them, it felt like blood was trickling down between her fingertips. Pure imagination and she was aware of that, but after everything she’d done. All for a man that she thought had loved her, a man that she’d loved. All those people she’d killed because of cause that was as fake as any of words that passed that man’s treacherous lips.   
  
She should’ve been smarter. She should’ve realised that no one, not a single soul would ever love her like that. They’d never love her for being her. If she’d been younger she wouldn’t of fallen for it so well. Always closed off to everyone, always keeping people at a distance and then she’d opened herself up, hand’t she? Allowed herself to be happy and fall in love, what did it get her? Nothing but pain and heartbreak, this was why she should’ve kept her distance the entire time.   
  
Em’s eye fell on Clayton who was sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side and clutching his teddy tightly in his arms. He was a little bit too big for the bunkbeds, but because he was curled up, he was able to fit comfortably. She briefly wondered what would’ve happened to him if she’d never found him. Would he be saver? Would someone else of found him and taken him in? She remembered Bill mentioning how he’d once found an orphan boy’s mummified corpse in the heat vent.   
  
Clenching her eye shut and pressing her fingernails into the palms of her hand, the pain from her nails helping to ground her back in reality. She couldn’t think like that, Clayton was better with her and she’d give anything to keep her little boy safe.   
  
Already failed at that though, hand’t she? Keeping him safe would also of meant keeping him away from any of the violence. She’d been unable to do that. How much of a slap in the face was it when Tenenbaum seemed to be better at keeping children away from danger than she was?   
  
“No,” she whispered to herself, glaring at the floor before she turned that glare on the woman in question. “Tenenbaum is the real monster. She made all of this possible with her little discovery. She turned these girls into monsters… she never kept them safe,” she scorned herself. “You’re better than that. Not much better, but you never hurt Clayton. You kept him as safe as you could…”  
  
It still didn’t change that fact that she felt like she could’ve done more. So much more.   
  
An idea suddenly came to her. She hadn’t considered it because she’d been recovering and re-learning how to shoot. It wasn’t that much harder, she just had to pay closer attention to her right side since she couldn’t see out of that side now.   
  
Picking up her gun, checking it was loaded, Em headed out, taking a bag with a few bombs with her. She made sure no one noticed her, already being able to hear the lecture Tenenbaum would give her, but this was something she had to do. The ex-Nazi scientist wouldn’t understand, how could she? She hadn’t been hurt like she had.   
  
Em was smart, despite recent events making her doubt that statement, she was smart and she knew that she couldn’t kill Fontaine. Not yet at least. He was guarded and every time she looked at him, she still saw Atlas. Still saw the man she’d fallen in love with and it wasn’t easy killing the person you loved. She’d get over it, the rage was inside her, burning up and scorching her insides. It ran through her veins like a fatal poison.   
  
What was it Shakespeare has said? ‘Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.’ Well, she couldn’t agree more. It was smashing against the inside of her skull like a hammer to nail and she couldn’t block it out. Em wanted to get back at him, she was going to kill him, she’d already made up her mind about that, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. So for now, she’d settle by sabotaging him.   
  
Using the many secret passage ways and hidden walk ways they’d made to get from point a to point b without being seen by Ryan, Em managed to get herself to Siren Alley. At least that’s what they called it now.   
  
It was late so no one was around, no one was there to see her, Em still held her gun tightly in her hand. Stepping past the empty shops and stepping over a few corpses that had simply been left to rot in the streets, Em made her way to the grocery store at the other end of the alley. She’d have to be quick, before anyone came out to investigate.   
  
Once she was standing in front of the door, she brought her gun up and shot the lock off. It made a loud bang, but no one came out. Probably because they simply assumed it was a splicer battle, that was fair enough, she didn’t care, they could think that. It made her business all the more easier.   
  
Sneaking around, Em found the secret button hidden under the cash register and pressed the button, before walking around to the secret entrance that lead into the back room. The place where all the plasmids and tonics that Fontaine had been making for his little war. The turrets they’d set up, or more accurately, she’d set up, did nothing to attack her. They were of course tuned to her, so Emilie could simply slip on by.   
  
Inside the Plasmid and tonic bootleg lab, Em quickly set to work smashing everything. ADAM and EVE fell to the floor, dripping down the sides and mixing together on the floor. She destroyed as much of the equipment as she could, before placing a few bombs on the floor around the place. One of Em’s favourite things she’d learnt was that ADAM was quite flammable, so as she took a bottle and poured it out towards the steps, the smile never left her face.   
  
Casually tossing the bottle to the side, Em pulled out her lighter, before lighting up the trail of ADAM, she found herself pausing. Could she do this? Other people could get hurt. Hadn’t she done enough?   
  
“Skammelige gjerninger hevner seg,” she mumbled to herself, almost like she was trying to remind herself. It was an old Norwegian proverb, roughly translating to ‘shameful deeds bring on revenge’, was it really worth it? What were the shameful deeds? Fontaine’s or her own? Revenge didn’t solve anything, she’d been taught that.   
  
Frowning to herself she shook her head and sighed. Em smiled once more, maybe a manic smile, but a smile none the less.   
  
“Det er aldri fisk uten bein og ingen mennesker uten feil,” she shrugged to herself, putting the lighter to the ADAM, repeating the saying back to herself in English if only to solidify it in her mind, while watching as the flames raced across the floor to the carnage she’d left behind. “There is never fish without bone and no man without faults.”   
  
Quickly she ran out of the place, only just managing to make it out of the grocery store before there was an explosion. Screams and shouts sounded around Siren Alley, Em got to her feet and made a mad dash to the exit. Fontaine would know it would’ve been her. There was no one else it could be and he was smart enough to know that. Tenenbaum was likely going to be angry with her, but she really didn’t care.   
  
As she ran through the streets and back the way she came, Em found herself laughing the whole way back.

* * *

  
_Jack Fish,_   
  
_Convenience of war:_   
  
_There is something to be said about the convenience of war… no one notices a few people missing. While working for Ryan did have it’s positives… now I have free rain and there are so many… so many more to add to my collection. I started with small birds at first, perfected it until I killed my sister’s cat, then I killed my sister, I was only thirteen but what a rush… that thrill was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was addictive… to hold that sort of power over life and death… a thrill. Here in Rapture… it’s all the more easy to scratch my itch._


	29. Paper Doll

_Jasmine Jolene,_   
  
_Pregnancy:_   
  
_That creepy Doctor Tenenbaum promised me it wasn’t gonna be a real pregnancy, they’d just take the egg out once Mister Ryan and I had.. I needed the money so bad… But I know Mister Ryan’s gonna suss it out, gonna know I wasn’t being careful… gonna know I sold the… Mister Ryan’s gonna be so mad at me…_

* * *

  
Sinclair looked over the sorry excuse of what counted as news down here these days. The Rapture Tribune had become very predictable recently, especially as things began to fall apart. Though it was certainly entertaining to see what people did in this sinking city when they were put even more pressure. Now, Ryan was putting the bathyspheres in lockdown. Wasn’t that a treat?   
  
It was now June, the war had carried on, no surprise there, people had protested and wanted to leave, but weren’t they surprised when Ryan said no? Sinclair wasn’t sure why they were so surprised. Ryan didn’t suffer fools, so he certainly wouldn’t pity them. It was almost like they thought they still had a choice anymore. Sinclair wanted to laugh. Did they honestly think they had any say anymore?   
  
Also, Ryan had been in a bad mood recently. Word had spread that his fiancé or… ex-fiancé, Sinclair supposed, had up and joined Atlas. Yep, Diane McClintock was so moved by the living conditions the poor were living in now days, that she’d joined the quote on quote ‘revolution’, or Fontaine’s latest scheme of pissing off Ryan. The whole thing was a complete sham and certainly underhand and dirty. Giving all those people false hope, letting them pull his weight so he could take over Rapture and he didn’t have to lift a finger to do it.   
  
Underhand, dirty, not at all honourable, but it was clever and Sinclair simply had to tip his hat. Credit where credit was due after all and in the business, the stunt Fontaine had pulled was probably one of the best Sinclair had seen. That man always had a way of surprising him. Just when he thought Fontaine had gone and got himself killed, it turned out he had a back up plan all along. Sinclair wouldn’t be surprised if the man had a back up plan for this back up plan.

Sinclair glanced up as a couple rushed past him in Fort Frolic. Gripping each other’s hands tightly and making a run for it, heads kept down. He watched them out of curiosity, they probably had come to grab some Plasmids for protection and where now headed home. The irony was that in the end, they’d probably have to use those Plasmids on each other.. once the genetic material ate away at their brains. He could almost feel sorry for them.

His eyes flicked back to the paper and he read about a new body being found hanging. Another woman. It had been happening a lot recently, but people didn’t really seem to think much of it. There was a war going on and it was utter chaos, no surprise that some people were taking the easy way out.   
  
Footsteps caught his attention and he looked up. He was surprised to see Ryan, but something was off about the man. He was leaving Eve’s Garden, not an uncommon sight, but he looked sluggish. Dead, perhaps? Sinclair would say it was odd to see a corpse moving around like it was alive, but come to think of it that was what most of Rapture looked like now days.   
  
Still, there was something off with the man. He looked tired, warn out, he reminded Sinclair of the city for the briefest moment. When he looked at his eyes he could see a rage behind them, a deep seated rage and perhaps just a little bit of shock. Almost like he was surprised by something he’d done.   
  
When Sinclair looked at his brown suit, a thing that was usually done up neatly, not a ripple or thread out of place, it was bunched up. There was even a red splatter stain across it that set alarm bells going off in Sinclair’s head and then he recognised that look on Ryan’s face. It was a look he was starting to see on a lot of people recently, but seeing it on Ryan’s face? Oh didn’t that put him in a good mood!   
  
Ryan looked up at him, catching his eye briefly and Sinclair smiled cheerfully at him, before he made his gaze look just a little pitying.   
  
“You don’t look so good, chief,” he said, flicking the paper back up so he could continue reading it, his smirking growing on his face. “I’d suggest you book an appointment with Doctor Lamb.”  
  
It was worth the glare.

* * *

  
“Need a hand with that?”   
  
Katie Silver jumped a little at the sudden voice. Turning to see a man with a flat cap on his head and moustache, a kind smile on his face. He was quite tall and broad and he had dark eyes, but he seemed to be living it rough like she was. Of course she was, she’d been helping Atlas for months now.   
  
Currently she was trying to steal some boxes away from one of the stacks in Farmer’s Market. Gathering more food for the group, just like the rest of them were.   
  
Katie smiled at him, brushing a blonde curl out of her face. “Oh, that would be lovely,” she said, looking down at his hands she frowned. His right one looked damaged awfully bad. “What happened?”   
  
“Oh… that…” his face suddenly took on a dark look, the dark eyes seemed to grow darker and he shrugged a little. “Got attacked by a splicer. She damaged my hand.”   
  
“Are you sure you’re gonna be able to lift these?”  
  
“I can adapt.”   
  
Katie frowned at him, before looking back at the boxes and then looking him over once more. She didn’t recognise him. She certainly hadn’t seen him around their group. He wasn’t one of Atlas’s followers, he wasn’t one of them and immediately the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right about this.  
  
“Um, you know what,” she laughed holding her hands up. “I think I’ll just grab one of my friends to come and help me…” she said, walking past him.   
  
She never stood a chance. Out of no where he slammed her head against the side of the wall, dazing her, before wrapping a rope around her neck with his left hand. He tightened it and tightened it. Pulling with his left hand as her hands reached up to try and tug at the rope. It bit and cut into her skin, she was choking and her legs were kicking out desperately. Her killer was breathing heavily, short sharp breaths as he continued to tighten the rope around her neck.   
  
Soon she stopped moving, but he didn’t stop tightening the rope. He knew from past experience that a person could simply fall unconscious, but to actually kill someone like this, it took longer. It wasn’t like the films.   
  
He kept his grip for another fifteen minutes, before finally letting go. Carefully slipping the rope off, the man reached into his pocket clumsily with his right hand. Holding a piece of her hair, he cut a chunk of it off, before slipping a hand in her dress pockets and pulling out her identification. Everyone still carried these around with them, it made him very pleased. He could keep track of his kills and celebrate them.   
  
The killer dragged her towards the nearby meat locker, where another body of his hung from a meathook. He had to do this now days, he couldn’t tie his hangman knots. The damn splicer he’d attacked had messed up his right hand so badly that the intricate knots he used to tie to hang his victims, he was unable to preform. He couldn’t believe that bitch had damaged him so badly. He’d had to change up his style, he wasn’t happy about that and it didn’t carrying with it the same thrill as watching those little legs dance and twitch, but it would do.   
  
He lifted the body up on his shoulder before slamming it down on one of the meat hooks, the hook pierced through the shoulder and splattered some blood across his face. That was another thing he didn’t like, the goddamn mess.   
  
Wiping away at the blood and looking at it in disgust, he pocketed his prises. Briefly bringing up the hair to his nose and taking a deep breath, inhaling the smell and letting a sick smile spread across his face.   
  
As he left he didn’t notice the shadow that hung back and watched him, a shadow that had watched the entire thing and hand’t stepped in once.   
  
Slowly the shadow pulled out a cigarette and at the sound of a lighter. The flickering flame lit up Frank’s face as he narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure. He knew he could’ve stopped things, but he had to make sure it was the right person.   
  
Taking a drag of his cigarette, he blew the smoke out and smirked to himself.   
  
“Got you.”

* * *

  
“Come on, we gotta hurry!” Daniel insisted, pulling Opal quickly along, carrying his suitcase as she clutched tightly to her own. “I’ve hacked the cameras, but we only have a few minutes before Ryan takes notice and sends someone down here.”   
  
They were running through Neptunes Bounty, a place that might as well be called a ghost town now days. There was no one down here, just a few bodies that littered the place and those were merely treated as obstacles now. They couldn’t be people anymore, because the moment you registered them as people, was the moment they became a problem.  
  
Daniel had come up with a plan. You couldn’t use any of the bathyspheres, Ryan monitored those, but he didn’t monitor Fontaine’s Fishing subs. They were still here and you could still use them. He just had to stay behind and open the doors for Opal. It would mean staying behind, but he didn’t care. He wished there was a way both of them could leave, but there wasn’t and he wasn’t about to let his wife die down here. Not in this house of horrors.   
  
They reached the sub and Daniel opened the hatch dropping their suit cases down the hatch, turning to Opal and clutching her hands tightly.   
  
“Baby, you know I love you,” he said, smiling at her. “And I know you’ll be perfectly safe.. okay, you just.. you just gotta put in your coordinates and I’ll open the doors-.”  
  
“What are you talking about? You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” She frowned at him and Daniel sighed.   
  
“No. I can’t. I have to stay behind and open the doors for you.”   
  
“No!” She shook her head, holding his hands tightly. “No, no, I lost my sister, I can’t loose you too!”  
  
“You’re not loosing me,” he assured, taking his hands away and pulling off his wedding wing, placing it in her hand. “I’m with you. Always. I’m yours, till death do us part.”  
  
“I can’t loose you, Daniel!” Opal argued holding onto him. “We’re both leaving or neither of us are.”  
  
“We don’t have time for this, Opal!” He snapped at her, clutching her shoulders. “Ryan will send someone down here soon because of the cameras. If he hasn’t noticed already, we can’t afford to waste anymore time, you have to leave!”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere without you!”  
  
“You have to!”  
  
“No!”   
  
“You can both leave.”   
  
Daniel span around, a gun drawn as he pointed it at Sullivan. The chief of security held a bottle of whisky in one hand, a red and black blanket was hung over his arm. He had his police badge pinned to the front of his jacket, eyes dark and staring at them, but there was no gun.   
  
“Sullivan…” Daniel stared at him pleadingly. “Please! Don’t do this, please!”   
  
“I said, you can both leave,” he gestured to sub. “I’ll open the doors.”   
  
He stared at him, before glancing at his wife who was looking at Sullivan with a gaze that was full of distrust. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t trust Sullivan either. There was something wrong, wouldn’t the security chief want to leave? What if it was just a trap?   
  
“Why?”   
  
Sullivan sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I became a cop to help people, ya know? That’s… the whole reason for being a cop. You help people. You keep them safe,” he glanced up at them. “I ain’t been doing that. I hurt people, I didn’t save or help anyone. Well, I did… but the wrong people. I’ve lost people, friends…” he shook his head. “I’ll do my job today and I’ll save someone… might.. undo some of the things I’ve already done. Ya’ know, if you believe in all that redemption bullshit.”  
  
“Don’t you want to leave too?” Opal asked him.   
  
He laughed, waving the bottle in the air, before pulling out his gun from his pocket. “Oh I’ll be leavin’ right behind ya’, don’t you worry about that…”   
  
Daniel and Opal stared at him with wide eyes. They were still holding each other’s hand and their grip got tighter when they realised what Sullivan was hinting at.  
  
“Get in the sub,” he said. “You’re right, Ryan will send someone down here to check the cameras,” Sullivan explained, resting the bottle on the control panel, slipping the gun away as he began clearing the access. “Ryan got me to kill Culpepper,” he explained as Daniel and Opal both began climbing in the sub. “I can’t live with what I’ve done.. so… figured I can help you folk out… do one last good thing…” he said as he climbed onto the sub and grabbed the lid, staring down at Daniel and Opal who stared up at him. He smiled at them, too much teeth and gums. “One last good thing… before I go bye-bye,” he waved his hand at them, then he shut the door, tightening it so the air lock sealed in place.   
  
He climbed down from the sub, resting his hands on the control panel a moment, before pressing the button that opened the doors and the sub sank into the cold water.   
  
Sullivan walked over to the big glass windows, watching as the sub began to speed away. Opal and Daniel Warren… the only souls to escape Rapture alive. He smiled to himself. There was something like a happy ending about that. Hopefully the surface would be a better place for them. Hell, scratch that, he knew it would be.   
  
He watched the sub until it disappeared from sight, blending in with the murky depths and far away from Rapture. Sullivan sat himself down, clutching the red and black blanket tightly in his fingers.   
  
Sullivan brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips and gulped down the rest of it as best he could, he spilled some of it down the front of himself, but he didn’t care. Alcohol staining his suit was the least of his worries. Setting the gun on his lap a moment, he stared out the windows and at the rest of the sea.   
  
Oh, what Rapture could’ve been, there was no denying that the city had once been great. Shame the people weren’t as great as the city. Himself included in that.   
  
Slowly he brought the gun up to his head. He remembered O’Riley briefly and how peaceful he’d looked after pulling the trigger. It was the most carefree expression he’d ever seen on another human being, because the pain was finally over. His fingers tightened around the red and black blanket, as his other hand tightened around the gun and the trigger. The blanket was soft to the touch, it really was a beautiful thing.   
  
He never did get anyone to finish it.

* * *

  
_Jack Fish,_   
  
_Hooks:_   
  
_Since I can’t tie my damn ropes anymore.. I’ve had to change my method. It doesn’t give me the same thrill as it used to though. I enjoyed… squeezing their necks and watching as what little life they had left seeped out of them.. one choked breath at a time. I have to use rope now, instead of my bare hands. Can’t hang them up with my hangman knots anymore, I’m having to use meat hooks. The only good thing about this situation… is most meat hooks are located in the industrial ice boxes. The bodies stay fresher for longer… means I can visit them more and more. Well, you can never have too much of a good thing._


	30. She's Got You

_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Rose tinted blindness:_   
  
_I was a fool this whole time… just looking at him… viewed him through rose tinted glasses! I.. I can’t kill him though, he’s still Atlas, still has his face, his voice… No, no. I’m not falling for.. I won’t be killed by that bastard! I may not be able to kill him yet… give it time.. I’ll look him in the eyes as I pull the trigger._

* * *

  
Fontaine glared at the man who came to report the latest news. Another one of their weapon caches was destroyed in the night. This had been going on for months now and he knew exactly who it was that was doing it. There was only one person who knew all of these locations and could sneak by without an issue. There was also only one person with a motive to do it.   
  
He told the idiot with the information to get back out there and find out just where she was hiding. No one seemed to be able to find her and it was really starting to get on his nerves. She was even working her way past all of his guards and destroying everything. Their weapons, their Plasmids, Tonics. All of it. Emilie was… a constant pain in his side. Like a bad penny that just kept on turning up.   
  
It wasn’t just her he was having to deal with, but also this psycho. He’d been following him, but lost track of where he was hiding, though Frank was certain he recognised him. He just couldn’t put his finger on who he was, just knew he was someone he knew. Or saw before at the very least.   
  
Frank looked down at his map that lay in front of him and harshly crossed out another weapons cache. He glared at the red cross that lay in front of him. All because of that damn woman. Maybe he shouldn’t of gotten as close to her as he had. It had just been almost too easy for him, she understood everything to a degree. He’d even been honest with her at times, just like her damn son, he’d admitted things that he never would’ve told anyone. She just seemed to pull it from him. A soft smile and a gentle touch, those idiotic actions had drawn out more truth from him than any form of torture or pain he’d been subjected to ever had.   
  
Worse yet and Frank wasn’t ready to admit this to himself yet, but he missed her. She was a sense of intelligence and calmness that had helped him get through the damn department store. Em was like him to a degree. Even more so now, because she was willing to do anything to get at him. He’d wager she still couldn’t kill him, so now she was doing everything in her power to irritate him. Well, it was certainly working.   
  
He rubbed at his right shoulder, rolling it a little. The bullet had wedged itself so far in that they couldn’t safely remove it. It would be stuck in there for the rest of his life. It was a damn good shot and a smart move too. He hadn’t been able to shoot her so she’d been able to get away. Smart. So very smart and so very goddamn irritating.   
  
Looking back at the cross on the paper he sighed and sat down heavily on the chair, rubbing at his eyes. This was stupid. How hard could she possibly be to find? Even Ryan couldn’t find her, though he doubted that he was even looking for her. So focussed on getting Atlas and killing him. Fontaine wanted to laugh.   
  
Ghostly fingers gently touched at his back, he felt soft lips whisper comforting words by his ear and Fontaine flinched, falling to the floor. He stared into the empty space with wide, frightened eyes. Jesus he’d been alone for too long hand’t he? Especially if he was missing that damn woman this much. He’d find her again. Make her tell him how to get past Ryan’s gate and then after that… well, he wasn’t too sure. Probably keep her working for him. Get his hands on Clayton he could get Em to do anything. Whilst it was true the boy was a liability for him, he was an even bigger liability for Em.   
  
That was the answer. The kid was the key, if he got Clayton, he’d be able to get Em to do whatever he wanted.   
  
Feeling a little better about things, especially now he had a solution to the problem, he pulled out an audio diary. It was just him, all by himself, he could shed this act from himself for a brief moment.   
  
He hit record and got to his feet, pacing a little, a smile on his face. It was good to be himself, to shake off the act and become himself again. It felt good.   
  
“Never play a man for the short con when you can play ‘em for the long one,” he said, almost as a reminder to himself for why he was still doing this. “Atlas is the longest con of them all. Ryan wanted Frank Fontaine dead, I just gave him what he wanted,” he shrugged like it was obvious, the easiest thing he’d ever done. “As Atlas, I got a new face, a clean record, and a fresh start. Now it’s time to take back Rapture and-.”  
  
“… Ryan did. I can’t wait to tell Atlas. He’ll be so pleased…”   
  
Frank span around staring a mixture of horror and angry shock at Diane who stared at him with a picture of shock and disbelief. No. Had she heard?! She couldn’t of heard, there was no way- why was she even here?! Why was she here, no one was supposed to be here or had she not listened again?   
  
“Uhh, Miss McClintock… what are you doing here?” He blinked a few times. Let me just…” one more glance at her face and he knew. She wasn’t falling for it. She’d heard it all. She knew the truth. Shaking his head and leaning heavily on the table he knew what he needed to do. “Turn this off…” he finished in his own voice, pressing stop on the diary.  
  
She hadn’t moved. That was a mistake, a rather stupid one too. Then again, Diane wasn’t exactly someone known for her intelligence. She’d fallen in love with Ryan after all, you had to be a few cards short of a deck to think that was a good idea. Sometimes Fontaine couldn’t believe that Em was friends with this woman or at least had been. From what he could gather, Em and Diane hadn’t been exactly close. She was more Kelly’s friend than Em’s, but still even that fact surprised him.  
  
“H-how could you?!” Diane accused as he got closer, taking slow, deliberate steps. “They trusted you! They believed you! How could you let them die for a lie?!”   
  
Ah yes, that was the question wasn’t it? How could one human being be so damn selfish? Well, he’d only done what Ryan had done, hadn’t he? Sold a pretty story and used everyone else to make it happen. Ryan was a grifter himself, though the man would never admit it. He’d never see his great vision for the lie it truly was.   
  
“It don’t matter, kid,” he said, taking patient steps towards her. He didn’t have to rush, she wasn’t going anywhere. Judging by the look on her face, she couldn’t move. Literally frozen in fear. Funny, he’d never seen that truly happen before. First time for everything he supposed. “Because it’s all lies. Everything is.”   
  
His hands shot out and wrapped around her neck, tightening his hold and squeezing. She tried to claw at him, tried to tug at his hands that were tightening around her throat. He put more pressure on his hold, her nails scratched at his skin, but he hardly noticed it. The adrenaline coursed through his veins and the hatred. How much he hated Ryan and he remembered everything that bastard had done, stealing Reggie and Limey from him, trying to take his product as well and kill him, well, what had he told Clayton? Oh yes, that he was going to take everything from Ryan. That he was going to destroy everything he ever loved and cared about. Kill anyone Ryan had given a damn about and he was going to use Andrew Ryan’s own bastard son to do it!   
  
Not this one, no… this one would be his. It worked double in his favour as well, no one would go tattle tailing about who he truly was. It was so simple… this was how you truly solved a problem.   
  
He was snapped out of his thoughts as Diane began to scream with what little voice she had left. A last ditch attempt to get help, to get someone to come and witness this act and save her.   
  
“Shut up!” He hissed between his teeth, eyes wide and looking around desperately and then his eyes landed on the metal table. “S-shut up!”   
  
The table seemed to call to him. Yeah… that would work…   
  
He threw her against the table and she coughed, rubbing at her throat, trying to stand, but he didn’t give her a chance. Grabbing the back of her head, fingers getting tangled in her blonde hair, because of course Ryan had a type, he slammed her head against the table.   
  
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up!” He cried desperately, repeatedly slamming her head against the table with as much strength as he could muster. The desperation clear in his voice as she continued to scream, but it gradually turned into gargling. It was one of the few times he was glad that there wasn’t many of them left, there was no one here to hear this. At least, they weren’t that close by. If they did hear and come to investigate… well, the deed would be done by then.   
  
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”  
  
He let go of her, taking a shaky footsteps away from the body, blood was dripping down the side and it was splattered up the wall.  
  
Frank pushed his hair out of his face, staring down at the body with wide eyes as he caught his breath. He’d never killed anyone like that before. It had never been so… brutal. It was always just business, a quick shot to the head or.. or something else like that… hell, he’d killed the real Fontaine by dumping him in the ocean. Never once had been so… personal.   
  
Diane’s face was a mess. Bloody and smashed in, there was some sort of blissful irony in that… considering how upset she’d been about her face after the New Years attacks.   
  
He blinked watching the blood drip down, he’d even gotten some of it splattered across his own face and a few strands of his hair fell out of place once more, hanging down in his eyes.   
  
“S-shame ‘bout ya’ face…” he mumbled to himself but then he was laughing. Laughing like it was the most hysterical thing he’d ever heard in his life.   
  
He took a few stumbling steps backwards, pressing his hand against his forehead, the manic smile had completely taken over his face now. He was laughing hysterically, it would easily put the splicer’s insane laughter to shame. Nothing could compete with the insane laughter leaving him. It was all just so funny.   
  
“Oh dear…” he mumbled, looking at the body and laughing again. “Oh fuck…” Frank rubbed his eyes and continued to laugh, the grin getting bigger as he lowered his hands and looked through his fingers. “How the hell am I gonna explain this…?”   
  
A fresh peal of laughter escaped him again and he stumbled over to his seat in front of his desk, sitting down with his head in his hands. Shoulders shaking as the laughter continued and he gripped at his hair tightly, pulling a little at it while he belittled himself for being so goddamn stupid.  
  
“Oh fuckin’ hell… how am I gonna explain this…?”

* * *

  
Staring at herself in the mirror, Em ran her fingers over the white and red puffy scar that now ran down her face. After scavenging up some leather she’d been able to make herself a makeshift eyepatch. She hadn’t lifted the eyepatch to see what was left underneath. She never wanted to see it, even when she went to bed, she kept the eyepatch on until finally sitting down. Em also made sure that everyone was asleep, she was worried she’d scare the children.   
  
Clayton had tried to make her laugh a little by saying that now she was like Odin, to a degree. She kinda was and it had made her laugh at the time, but now.. staring at herself in the mirror…   
  
Slamming her hand down against the sink, Em squeezed her eye shut and took a deep breath. Couldn’t afford to go into an attack right now, that was dangerous. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of Tenenbaum, she didn’t want to appear weak to anyone, someone might take advantage of that. Hell, someone already had, hadn’t they?  
  
Fontaine’s name flashed through her mind and she opened her eye to glare at her reflection. She’d been on a bit of a war path recently, destroying everything that she knew was his. Couldn’t kill him yet, but she could effect him in other ways. The weapon caches, the back market Plasmid labs, saving the sisters after letting those bastards do all the hard work and kill the Big Daddies. Yeah, Em was there, waiting in the shadows. The moment the beast went down, she came out of the darkness and put them all down quickly, before snatching up the Sister and running.   
  
She always made sure to kill them. Clayton hadn’t agreed with her, saying that they were working for Atlas they didn’t know any better, Em replied that killing them was a mercy. If she’d injured them, it wasn’t like they’d be getting back and Splicers could pick them off easily. Splicers wouldn’t make their death painless or quick and besides, you could hardly call those followers people anymore. They were spliced up and growing deformities. They’d probably gone out on the hunt for the hell of it. After the Sister so they could tear out her ADAM, well, all sympathy left Em when she saw that look in their eyes.   
  
Clayton had been saving the sisters too, sometimes he’d hide in the vents and when he came across one, he’d bring her back to Tenenbaum. He didn’t like doing it because they would scream and he knew he was scaring them. Sometimes he was concerned he was hurting them, but Tenenbaum assured him he wasn’t. Also pointing out that they were saving the girls in the end, turning them back into children.   
  
Emilie sighed, pulling her hair back from her face and tying it back. It was how she’d been wearing her hair, but when she took one look at the clear scar running down her face, she quickly undid it and instead let her hair fall around her face. Maybe not the most sensible option, but she couldn’t bare to look at it so clearly yet. Every time she heard one of those hooked bastards crawling across the ceiling, Em would make sure she had a bomb with her. She wasn’t taking any more chances, she didn’t want to loose her other eye.  
  
Walking back into the open, the girls and Clayton were playing. She found it amazing how these children, while they were in this safe space, could still be children. They played games, they read stories, they laughed and sang… it was amazing.   
  
Tenenbaum was working again. She really did seem to want to change, trying desperately to rectify her mistakes as best as she could. There were some things you couldn’t take back though. Some things that would never be corrected and changed.   
  
“It sounds like it’s quiet up there for once,” Em mumbled as she took a seat next to her.   
  
Tenenbaum frowned at her work a moment. “Because people are asleep or everyone is dead?”   
  
Em winced a little. “Probably the latter. As much as I hate to admit it,” she looked down at her hands and shrugged a little. “I might go out and get more supplies.”  
  
“We don’t need any more food.”   
  
“Bullets, Brigid. We- well, _I_ need bullets.”   
  
Tenenbaum finally looked up at her with narrowed eyes that Em ignored in favour of grabbing a cigarette. “Why do you persist in this one man war against Atlas? I recall you working with him at one point in time.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“What changed?”   
  
She frowned a moment, lighting her cigarette and taking in a drag. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”  
  
“You’re being vague.”  
  
“You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine,” she shrugged a little.  
  
In truth, Em was concerned that Fontaine might somehow hear her. She wouldn’t say she was paranoid as such, but the bastard had a habit of finding things out. She supposed that she’d already painted a target on her back, but she didn’t trust Tenenbaum. For now, they were allies, but Em hadn’t forgotten that the woman had once worked for Fontaine. Yeah, Em had worked for the man too, but she didn’t feel like Tenenbaum trusted her either.  
  
Was she scared of Frank Fontaine? No. She’d passed the point of being scared of him, she was angry at him. She was angry at both him and Ryan. That was another reason why she hadn’t told anyone who Atlas really was. If people turned on him and killed him, there would be no one to distract Ryan from trying to find her and Clayton. She had no doubt that if the man chose to focus all of his efforts on her, he’d eventually find her. Maybe even find the Sisters… she couldn’t let that happen. So, if it meant keeping secrets, she would.   
  
“I know guilt when I see it, Frau Lokken.”  
  
“Oh, I bet you do,” she gave her a dull look. “Every time you look in the mirror, right?”   
  
Tenenbaum placed her tools down and looked back at her with very little emotion. “As do you. I wonder why? One would think you believed yourself to be doing the right thing… killing all those people.”  
  
“You want to compare notes, Brigid?” Em bit back, glaring at her. “Even after everything I’ve done, I still think your list will be longer.”   
  
“Deflecting is not healthy.”   
  
“I was an alcoholic,” she replied, blowing smoke to the ceiling. “Do I take you as a person who deals with her issues in a healthy manner,” Emilie shook her head and laughed. “Vi har alle laster.”  
  
“Vices are one thing,” Brigid reasoned. “But you are taking a path of revenge.”  
  
“Vi tar all hevnveiene på et tidspunkt.”  
  
“You know I can understand what you’re saying?” Tenenbaum said, frowning a little at the woman. “Revenge will not solve anything. The hatred you feel it will not go away.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t want it to go away?” Em countered. “You ever think of that?”

* * *

  
  
Despite this situation not being great, Frank couldn’t deny that it was useful. At least when it came to hiding Diane’s body. The splicers had all turned on them. He knew that it was something to do with Ryan, like it always was, but at least now he didn’t have to come up with an excuse.   
  
Swinging a bag on his back, he sprinted away from the carnage, directing those that weren’t dead or spliced to follow him. He shot a few of the splicers himself, ducking a few hooks being frown at him.   
  
As the carnage continued he was starting to doubt his previous joy at this predicament. He ducked another splicer hook, but the man next to him wasn’t so lucky. The blade sliced through his neck easily before flying back to the splicer’s hand. As the man fell he reached up for him, but Frank turned his back and kept running. Turning around he realised he was the only one left. The rest were being butchered by the splicers and wasn’t that just a brilliant distraction for him.   
  
Fontaine continued to run, he didn’t know how long he’d been running for, just that when he finally came to a stop his legs burned and ached. He remembered a time when he was a kid, he’d been able to run forever. Now his legs screamed in protest and cursed him out for thinking that was a good idea.   
  
Laughter came behind him and he span around finding a splicer with a gun pointed at him. It was waving it around gleefully, looking like the cat who’d caught the canary. It didn’t get a chance to fire its gun, however, as another gun shot sounded and the splicer’s head exploded in a shower of red, before it tumbled to the floor.  
  
Frank winced a little, looking behind the splicer corpse, there was his saviour. To say he was surprised was an understatement.  
  
Emilie stood there, rifle raised and still smoking.   
  
It was the first time they’d seen each other since that day. She’d changed a lot, for one, she was missing one of her eyes. A pink and white puffy scar trailed down the right side of her face. Her hair hung around her face, a simple braid hanging down among the long red locks. She looked a little bit like she had done when they’d spoken together as Atlas and Emilie. Before she became the angel of death. If Fontaine was being honest, she looked more like an angel of death now than she ever head before. Her eye were cold and heartless, directed at him, though he couldn’t blame her.  
  
She didn’t lower the gun, still had it pointed at him, her finger hovering over the trigger. He knew he’d have to tread carefully, who knows what she’d do.  
  
Eventually she lowered the gun and smirked at him. “Well, this is interesting.”   
  
“Yeah? Why’s that?”  
  
“Because I still need you alive,” she shrugged. “So you can keep Ryan’s focus off me and you….” A manic grin stretched across her face. “Still need me alive so you can get past Ryan’s gate.”   
  
Fontaine narrowed his eyes at her, because damn it all she was right. “Must be annoyin’ for ya’.”  
  
“Funny, actually,” she replied, smirking at him. “Very funny. I mean… I could almost laugh,” she pointed to herself, the grin growing on her face. “Because it’s just typical! I want you dead, but so I can live… I need you alive and vice versa!”  
  
“Oh, I don’t want you dead, dollface,” he grinned back at her, enjoying the annoyed twitch that appeared on her face. “I want you alive, so you can watch as I tear this place apart. Then when I’m runnin’ things… I’ll need someone to take care of Hephestus for me.”  
  
“Like hell!”   
  
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he took a few steps towards her and she didn’t bring her gun up, just stared him down. “We both know you can’t pull that trigger, we both know that you still want…” he smiled softly at her, his voice changing to the Irish accent he’d perfected. “Me luv’, you still want me.”   
  
Her eye twitched and she rolled her eyes. “Jeg vil ha deg død.”  
  
“What?” He frowned at her looking thoroughly confused.   
  
Em smiled at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”   
  
At the sound of footsteps, they both became on edge, staring in the direction of the noise, before looking back at each other. This conversation would have to be put on hold it would seem, because they were about to have company.   
  
Em turned on her heel and began walking away from him, her gun still tightly held in her hands. He couldn’t make a move on her yet, he needed to grab Clayton somehow before he tried that. Now, however, he was alone, with no one else from his group alive or with him, it was time.   
  
“Hey, Em,” he grinned as she turned to glare at him. “Shame ‘bout ya’ face… you always were a looker, but didn’t I say them splicers wouldn’t know how to treat you right?”   
  
She narrowed her eye at him, he could see the grip on her gun tightened just a little. “Shame about Limey and Reggie,” she replied cooly and the smile left his face completely. “You always were a selfish bastard… but didn’t I always say that?”

* * *

  
 _Jack Fish_  
  
 _A monster:_  
  
 _People would call me a monster, but they don’t understand. They don’t understand the thrill.. the pleasure I get from just ending one more bitch’s sad and pathetic life. The pain I inflict on them while they’re dying, it’s addictive. Exhilarating as the light dies in their eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul some would say. I’d like to leave a lasting impression, as I am the last thing they will ever see in this twisted world._  
  
Mister Ryan truly did create a utopia down here. I think that’s why we clicked when we met. We’re the same, him and I. He’s just…. like… me…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost finished... we've almost reached the end of this story and then we can move on to the next! This has been a wild ride, it really has, but I've had a lot of fun with it :D


	31. Don't Fence Me In

_Jack Fish,_   
  
_Hunted:_   
  
_I think I being hunted. Finally, after all this time, someone has noticed. Not sure who though.. didn’t think there was anyone left to notice a few people missing. Didn’t think there was anyone left to care. I’ll have to be extra careful, can’t afford to be caught out when the fun’s only just starting._

* * *

  
_“Hey Mary! What’s with the sour puss?”_  
  
 _“Have you heard what’s going on down in Apollo Square? I hear they’re putting people in cages.”_  
  
 _“There you go again, Mary, listening to the rumour bug! Rapture security is just rounding up the worst of the worst until the council can try them in a proper forum.”_  
  
 _“People say there have been executions!”_  
  
 _“People say lots of irresponsible things. That doesn’t mean you have to embolden Atlas and his bandits by repeating them. Remember, Mary. Rapture’s security is our security…”_  
  
 _“And it’s your end you son of a bitch!”_  
  
 _“Like hell, you trash!”_  
  
 _“You’re a hack, you can’t even keep a straight face-.”_  
  
 _“Have you seen your face?! Have you seen your hair-?”_  
  
 _“You bitch!”_  
  
Em, Brigid and Clayton all stared at the radio sitting on Tenenbaum’s table as a full on Plasmid fight was broadcasted across Rapture between the two radio hosts. Then finally it went silent, before all you could hear was static playing. It was almost funny, both radio hosts had always been so dramatic, that broadcasting their deaths across Rapture seemed… fitting for the two of them.   
  
Clayton reached over and switched the radio off, before looking back at his notes. Em wasn’t entirely sure what he was working on, he’d been busy with it for a while recently. Some of the notes she recognised as Suchong’s but they just looked like elements to her. She wasn’t entirely sure why her son was so interested in them, but he seemed to be writing something underneath it.   
  
Her little boy was eleven now. He was almost a teenager and normally such a milestone would be celebrated, but Em just felt a cold dread settle in the bottom of her stomach whenever she thought about it. Teenagers were supposed to go out and be with their friends, go to movie theatres, bars when they got old enough. Clayton should be hanging around with kids his age, talking to them, laughing, maybe even starting to date girls. He shouldn’t be sitting down in a cold room while a war raged above them.   
  
The war seemed to of calmed down for now. Ever since Ryan took control of the Splicers, whatever army Fontaine had was being trimmed down easily. Most now stayed in their homes, not that it did much. The splicers, when not being controlled by Ryan, broke into homes and murdered the occupants.   
  
Sometimes it felt like the people in the room with her where the only sane people left in this place. Everyone else was spliced or dead.   
  
In this quiet moment she recalled her last interaction with Fontaine. She’d seen the bastard after months of nothing and ironically enough saved his life. For the simple reason of keeping her and her son safe. Clayton had worked out one thing, however and that was how to keep Gabriel on their side. He’d managed to find a gas mask and convince the splicer to keep it on, so he still had control of his actions.   
  
That had been an easy fix, apparently whatever else he was doing in the few times he went out by himself, something she still didn’t like, but she was unable to stop him, he always took his tools. He was working on something but she wasn’t sure what he was quite working on. He kept it secret to himself, just the occasional annoyed look would cross his face and he would scribble something out in his notebook. The few things she’d been able to see, they looked like equations. Very big and complicated equations too.   
  
Glancing over at Tenenbaum who was also studying her son, Em remembered how one evening they’d been so bored stuck in this room, that Tenenbaum had gone back to experimenting. These were safe experiments, however and not the inhumane kind. One such, was an intelligence test on Clayton. He’d done it, probably as a nice distraction and Tenenbaum had gone over the results.  
  
When Clayton and the girls had gone to bed, Brigid had about cornered Em and showed her Clayton’s answers and the results.   
  
_“You cannot give up hope,” she’d insisted, pointing at the score. “You need to get your son out of here. The world needs to see his genius.”_  
  
 _“I need to get my son out of here so he can have a normal life,” Em had countered, glaring at her._  
  
 _“Emilie, you don’t understand,” she’d pushed Clayton’s results under her nose and pointed at the score. Em had felt her eye widen at the number written down. “I checked and double checked the score, to make sure there was no mistake and there isn’t. Your son has an intelligence score of 175! He’s only eleven, think of what he could do when he’s our age?!”_   
  
Since then she’d looked at her son differently. He was this miracle child, this little boy who’d been given the chance to show off his gifts and learn. Clayton’s beside was littered with books on physics, chemistry, biology, mechanics and so much more. He’d been reading about probability and theoretical physics recently. Quantum physics had now also joined that pile.  
  
“I’m gonna go out,” he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his things. “I’ll stick to the vents, just gonna get a lay of where everything has moved.”  
  
“Stay in the air vents this time,” Em warned. “The fighting’s gotten worse since Ryan took control of the splicers. People are shooting before they’re looking, understand?”   
  
He nodded and climbed into the air vent, crawling through the ventilation shaft. She’d worry, she always would. Clayton had recently taken up photographing the splicers on his journeys through the vents. Studying them and letting Tenenbaum go over them as the woman tried to work out a way to fix everything she’d done or at least locate some weaknesses.   
  
“I can’t believe you still let that child go out by himself,” Tenenbaum whispered.   
  
“Oh you mean how you send out the girls to get food?” Em frowned at her. “At least I’m awake while he does this. If I told him no, he’d wait for when I went to sleep. At least this way I’m on call to help. Also the splicers get more active at night and in the day they’re sniffing out Atlas. Ryan leaves them alone at night, they’re left to their own devices. That’s worse,” she told up, deciding she’d do a sweep of their area instead of listen to her. “Besides, do you really think you can judge me? You of all people?”  
  
Brigid narrowed her eyes. “At least I am willing to admit my mistakes.”  
  
“I’m not having this discussion with you,” Em snapped, turning away from her.   
  
Brigid had no place to judge her. She couldn’t judge her, not after everything she’d done. She was a monster. End of story.   
  
Em winced a little, her hands stilling over her tools. Weren’t they all monsters though? Only monsters could survive in a place like Rapture.   
  
She ran her finger over her puffy scar, finger resting above her eyepatch and winced.   
  
Only monsters survive, so a monster was what she’d be.

* * *

  
Fontaine had seen many monsters and evil in his life time. He’d been doing some of those atrocities himself in recent times. Only a few of his people remained, they’d managed to regroup at least and he’d been forced to use his Ace. Just had to wait for the kid to get to where they were, but also had to wait for the package to get to the surface. That could take however long it could take.   
  
Still, standing where he was and staring at the photos and locks of hair pinned to the wall, he believed it was the right thing to do and the right time.   
  
Faces stared back at him and he felt no remorse, only shock. He’d not expected there to be this many dead. He hadn’t thought this psycho had been _this_ busy. The whole wall was covered in photos and hair. Trophies from his kills, a way he could remember what he’d done.   
  
Hunters would often have animals stuffed and put above their fireplaces. Fontaine himself had also owned a few stuffed animal heads, both in his penthouse and in his office. Hell, his home had a whole polar bear, but this… this was sick. He’d killed people, he didn’t care, but there was no enjoyment. It was just business, but this…   
  
Sharking his head he turned away from the images, but one caught his eye and it forced him to look back. He wished he hadn’t. Staring back at him was Limey’s face and a lock of her hair. He pulled the image away and held it to his face, looking over the face of a woman he’d never see again. The last member of his little family he had left.   
  
He frowned in confusion. Why was Limey’s image here? It made no sense she was killed by…   
  
Frank almost dropped her image.   
  
The hangman. The goddamn hangman that Ryan had hired… he.. it was him that was doing all this. Because no one was being hanged he couldn’t scratch his itch so was having to go out and find it. He killed Limey. He’d murdered one of his own and got away with it too.  
  
A fresh wave of anger washed over him and he almost crumpled up the image of Limey, dropping it to the floor and searching through the apartment for something flammable. Thankfully he came across some alcohol and whilst it wasn’t the most flammable liquid in the world, it would do.   
  
He made a makeshift molotov, lighting it with his reclaimed seahorse lighter and chucked it at the wall, watching the fire spread up the photos and hair. It burnt away this psychos sick fantasies and perverse delights. It was sick, people like this was completely sick from Frank’s opinion, but now the bastard had killed Limey. This wasn’t just a case of trying to keep what he had left of his followers alive, no this was personal.

* * *

  
Clayton jumped down into the forgotten Silver Finn restaurant. Hell, the department store as a whole had been forgotten, mostly because anyone trapped in this place had left and did not want to come back. He didn’t want to come back either, but there was something here he needed. The Lutece Device. Clayton was certain if he could get it to work, his mum, Brigid, the girls and him would all be able to escape. He’d seen it, he’d seen the floating buildings, it was a different city. One that looked nicer than Rapture by a long shot and it was in the sky.   
  
The machine looked like it had been damaged when the building had risen to the surface and Ryan’s men probably had something to do with that. It irritated him that they would damage a device like this. Something that was so elegant and sophisticated.   
  
Quickly, Clayton set to work again. He’d been working like this for months now, gradually fixing it to the best of his ability, reading and re-reading the notes. Thanks to Elizabeth he’d been able to decipher the rest of the notes written in code. He’d also been reading up on codes himself and improving his lock picking skills. She’d shown him that with intelligence you could beat any problem, if didn’t matter how small you were, she’d taken down splicers and Ryan’s men by herself after all. All because she’d used her intelligence and her advantage of the idiots underestimating her.   
  
He could do that, he could use his smarts. The only person it hadn’t worked against was Fontaine, but Fontaine had always thought steps ahead hadn’t he? He was arrogant, but not so arrogant that he didn’t underestimate people.   
  
Bottom line, Fontaine was smart, alarmingly smart sometimes. There were moments when Clayton wished he could understand how that man’s mind worked and then there were horrifying moments when he felt like he already did. Those were the times that scared him the most, because he was usually able to pre-empt what Fontaine was about to do, so he could counter it. He hadn’t seen him since he escaped and found Gabriel. After that they hadn’t had any interactions.  
  
He knew he was around still, he was still alive, but that made him more dangerous. Clayton didn’t know where the bastard was, but also didn’t know if Fontaine was looking for him.   
  
Shaking his head, he returned back to the problem at hand. The Lutece device, it still needed fixing. Going back over his notes and looking at the machine, as far as he was aware, it just needed to be turned on.   
  
Clayton walked over to the switch, his hand hovering over it. He paused staring at the empty space where he’d seen a window to another world last time. He should probably run another test on it….   
  
No. He’d wasted enough time testing and re-testing, he was confident in his abilities.   
  
Grabbing the lever, he pulled it, taking a step back as a bright light suddenly appeared in the centre of the machine. It was the window, he could see the city shimmering in the centre of it. The window wasn’t as big as it had been, but it was there.   
  
He let out a breathless laugh, gripping at his head and grinning. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. He’d actually been able to fix the damn thing, just pump a little more power into it and he’d have the perfect escape route.   
  
The glowing frame of this inter dimensional window flickered and beckoned him welcomingly. He reached for it like he had with Elizabeth before she’d stopped him. He could feel the warmth from the power it held. The thing itself felt alive to a degree. Almost like it was a living thing that existed across time and space, Clayton couldn’t believe he was the one witnessing it. That he’d been the one to make it happen.  
  
His fingers hovered over the flicking light, Elizabeth had told him no to touch it and she’d stopped him, but she wasn’t here right now and he was so curious. It was just light, right? The worst it would do would be a light burn on his fingers. Nothing else.   
  
Swallowing down his fear, he gently touched the glowing seem of light and immediately wished he hadn’t. There was no pain, he wasn’t burning, but images flashed before his eyes. People he recognised, others he didn’t. Places he’d never seen before, other cities, one looked like it was under ground, one was in a place made of ice, another was standing out amongst a hot land with sand surrounding it. He saw the floating city once more, flickering between the picturesque image he’d seen and fires burning with red fabric floating around. He saw his mother, but she looked older and her hair was different, the eye patch was still on her face, there was a man with tattoos on his wrist like chains, a girl with bobbed black hair who was able to move objects with telekinesis. She was dressed in an all in one white suit and her image flickered between her wearing a diving helmet and then not. He thought he knew her. There was a monster of a man, he looked like a living statue, he was fighting the man with the chain tattoos, then he was fighting all of them and someone else Clayton just caught a brief flash of.   
  
The images seemed to continue and then voices joined in with the barrage that was being fired at him. He recognised some of them, others he didn’t know but he felt like he would learn to know them. That these people would be important to him later in life, if they weren’t important to him already.   
  
_“Love is a chemical, we give it meaning by choice.”_  
  
 _“We are where we’re needed.”_  
  
 _“And needed where we are.”_  
  
 _“Son, you’re special, you were born to do great things.”_  
  
 _“It is said that to save one life is to save the world entire.”_  
  
 _“Get the hell away from my kid!”_  
  
 _“Constants and variables.”_  
  
 _“Frank, do this, Frank, do that, but does anyone ask if I want to?”_  
  
 _“A mother will do anything to protect her child, not that you’d know anything about that.”_  
  
 _“A choice is better than none.”_  
  
 _“Yeah and what if one day you woke up and didn’t like what you chose?”_  
  
Suddenly the voices changed. They were still the same people, but there was more malice and hurt behind the words being spoken. The same people, but different mentalities. Aggression, pain, malice, hurt and rage were all emotions that filled the words being spoken by those same people and Clayton felt scared. These people were not his friends, they were not his family, they were monsters.   
  
_“You little nothing!”_  
  
 _“Time rots everything, Booker, even hope.”_  
  
 _“You were weak, you couldn’t harvest their power!”_  
  
 _“It wasn’t personal, it was… the law of nature.”_  
  
 _“We will be reborn!”_  
  
 _“That little bastard wouldn’t shut up, all this yapping that and babbling this… placating it with yes, søntos and oh really søntos?”_  
  
 _“When I’m done with you, I’m gonna go over to mother gooses’s house and break all those little eggs.”_  
  
 _“Rejoice! Death has no sting!”_

 _“The world is about to change and with your help, they’ll never see me coming.”_  
  
 _“Remember to forget, Mister Fontaine, remember to forget.”_  
  
 _“I was a child and you sent me off to war! You made me!”_   
  
It was too much, it was all too much. He went to pull his hand away, but a bloody child hand grabbed his wrist. He yelped and looked up, only to find himself, covered head to toe in blood and grinning at him. His grip was strong and there was something not right with his gaze. Somethime was wrong with this version of him.   
  
_“Don’t look so scared,”_ his counter said, the grin stretching across his face. _“Aren’t you proud of what dad turned you into? You just gotta embrace it!”_   
  
Clayton shrieked and yanked his hand out of his counter’s grip, the visions disappeared, as did the voices, but the window began to warp and move. Then it opened up, throwing him across the room and he smacked the far wall hard, the wind was knocked out of his and his head stung.   
  
He coughed and spluttered, gripping at the back of his head while the window stayed open and then a dark shadow stepped through it. Someone was coming through into this world, into his world and Clayton didn’t think he’d be able to use his gun. The world was was spinning too much.   
  
“Oh for… I told her to be careful, but like always, no one fuckin’ listens to me. I mean I know I tried to kill them all at one point, but would it kill them to listen to me at least once?”   
  
Clayton groaned, clutching at his head and listening. That voice he knew but it couldn’t be here. It just couldn’t be. He felt a hand on his shoulder, sitting him up. It was gentle and soothing, fatherly in nature and the eleven year old found himself leaning into the touch.  
  
“Easy, easy… there ya are, kid, you good?”   
  
His opened his eyes, feeling a distinct wave of DaJa Vu from when he first met Atlas, then his eyes landed on who was in front of him and his initial reaction was to panic. It was Frank.  
  
“Whoa, whoa!” Frank held his hands up, showing he meant no harm, but Clayton had long since past trusting this man. “Easy, easy.. it’s okay. It’s just me,” he paused and tilted his head. “Granted that ain’t much of a comfort for ya’ right now, but… well, c’mon kid, ya a smart one… look at me. I mean, really look at me. You notice anythin’… different?”   
  
Clayton blinked at him, the panic in his head was telling him to run, but he took in Fontaine’s words and looked at him. He was… different. He still had Atlas’s face, but it looked.. older, somehow. His hair was blonde, not the golden brown he knew him to have now and the edges around the sides were greying slightly. He was also dressed different, like the Lutece Twins, but he looked like he’d been in a fight and the weirdest thing was the dark sun glasses on his face.  
  
“You’re.. older…”   
  
Frank frowned before laughing softly. “Fuckin’ christ… course that’d be what you’d notice first,” he looked back at the window that was still open, the frown reappearing, before he turned back to Clayton. “Okay, I ain’t got long. Elizabeth said she could only hold this open for a little bit. Can’t get stuck here, it would really screw stuff up.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” He frowned at him. “Elizabeth’s dead… you killed her.”   
  
Frank winced a little but nodded. “Yeah, I know, but.. okay, I can’t get into that,” he shook his head. “I just… wanted to take this chance to… to.. say I’m sorry.”  
  
“Sorry?”   
  
“For everythin’, kid. I won’t say it to you now, the version of me that’s in this.. world.”   
  
“Then why are _you_ saying it now?”  
  
“Because I _can_ say it now. Because I’m _able_ to,” he cupped his face with his hand and smiled. “You don’t know how proud of you I am, kid. I know I don’t show it, I never will tell it to ya’ face, but you need to know I am. Look…” he reached into his pocket and took something out, before unclipping something else from around his neck and placing both objects in Clayton’s hand, closing it shut. It reminded Clayton to the time he’d given Fontaine sweets as a thank you when he’d been a little boy. “Somethin’s comin’ I can’t explain what it is… but something’s comin’.”  
  
Clayton frowned at him. “I don’t understand… what’s coming? Why do you have to do all this cryptic bullshit?”   
  
“Because where’s the fun in being simple?” Frank flashed him a crooked grin. “You gotta be ready. Understand?” He squeezed his hand and got up, brushing himself down. “You’ll see the surface, Clay’. Jack’s coming back.”   
  
“Jack?” He frowned. “Wait, the little boy? How’s he going to get me to the surface, he’s just a kid!”  
  
Frank laughed, pocketing his hands as he idly gazed around the forgotten restaurant. “He’s grown up since then. There’s a lot of things you don’t know… but you’ll find out,” he looked back at him and lowered his sun glasses. Clayton’s eyes widened in surprise at Frank’s two glowing amber eyes that looked back at him. They reminded the boy of the Little Sister’s eyes before Tenenbaum saved them. “Yeah, I know right?” He gestured to his eyes and laughed, slipping the glasses back up his face to hide them again. “Lights of broadway over here.”   
  
Clayton got to his feet, opening his hand and staring down at the objects. It was Fontaine’s seahorse lighter and a little golden locket. The locket instantly drew his attention and he picked it up, flipping it on its back to see an engraving on it. Something about never losing sight of the light even when you were in the dark. A metaphor for hope.   
  
“You’ll need that,” Fontaine said, gesturing to the locket in question. “Hell, you’ll need that soon.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“Me,” he answered, taking his glasses off his face and fixing him with a serious look. Clayton felt frozen under those glowing orbs. “Kid, I’m gonna be honest, I ain’t in a great place right now. The me in this timeline. I ain’t gonna get any better… I only get worse.”   
  
“Why are you telling me this?”   
  
“Because you need to know. It’s important. There’s gonna be a moment, it’s just gonna be you and me… but there’ll be a moment and you’ll need to use that,” he nodded to the locket. “Just like my version of Clayton used it before you. It stops me from doin’ somethin’… that I’d regret.”   
  
Clayton looked up at him. “Do you try to kill me?”   
  
He didn’t say anything, just slipped the sun glasses back on, hiding his glowing eyes once more. “Just use it, kid. You’ll know when. As for the lighter… well, ya’ll need that a lot later, but better to be prepared, right?”   
  
He stared at Fontaine before slipping the objects in his pocket, looking back at him as Frank smiled. It was weird. It wasn’t malicious or one of his trademark smirks. It felt genuine, but so did this version of Fontaine. He was like a completely different person.  
  
Just as the man was about to step back through, Clayton ran up and grabbed his arm. It startled him and he stared at the boy questionably.   
  
“Who are you?” Clayton asked. “I mean, who are you really?”   
  
He smiled at him and knelt down to his height, putting his hands on his shoulders. “I’m Frank, kid.”   
  
“Yeah I know that, but-.”  
  
“No. Just Frank,” he brushed a stray piece of blonde hair from Clayton’s face. “God, I forgot how small you used to be.”   
  
“You’re from the future?” Clayton blinked at him, an impish smile curled up his face. “Does that mean I get taller than you?”  
  
“Now ya’ just bein’ rude,” Frank smirked, before he pulled Clayton into a hug and he returned it, holding onto Fontaine- Frank, tightly. “You’re my kid, you hear me? You’ll always be my kid, no matter what I say to you, remember that. You’re gonna see a real ugly side to me later, Clay’, so jus’ remember.. I don’t mean a damn thing I say in that moment. I’m angry and you always say the worst things to the one’s you care about when ya’ angry.”  
  
“Okay… Dad…”   
  
Frank pulled away from him, a smile flickered at his face and he ruffled Clayton’s hair. “Gotta go, kid. I’ll see ya’ round.”  
  
“Dad?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
Clayton beamed when he replied to that name and he looked down at the floor a moment before looking back at him. “Do I like the surface?”   
  
Frank laughed and looked back at him, shooting him a smile. “Oh kid… ya’ gonna love it…”   
  
Then he stepped through the window and it closed behind him, the device powered down and Clayton some how knew that it wouldn’t power back on. No matter how many times he pulled the lever.   
  
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and pulled out the two objects again. Running his fingers over them and staring at them curiously. Frank had seemed pretty adamant about the locket, he also had been so damn annoyingly cryptic like the Lutece Twins recently. Clayton hadn’t seen those two in a while, he hoped they were okay.   
  
Putting the locket and the lighter back in his pocket, he gathered his things and ran back towards the air vent. He needed to head back to his mother and whilst he was going away with more questions than answers, he at least knew he was going to the surface. Something was coming, though and he didn’t know what that was. When Frank had said it, he almost seemed scared of what that something was.   
  
He’d find out in the end he guessed. Things would probably make sense soon, though he wasn’t sure what that quite meant. It felt like his time in Rapture, however, was coming to a close. That something was going to happen, things would change and they’d never be the same again.

* * *

  
_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_Falling into Place:_   
  
_New face. I have a new goddamn face- who’da thought? Rapture… paradise of the confidence man. I gotta keep revising the Atlas voice. I figure the accent gives me an excuse to lock myself in a room with a bottle and count the cash. War’s on in full no, boy… and I’ve got a hell of a surprise for Andrew Ryan. Long time comin’. And right about now, I expect the prodigal son is bookin’ his flight…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens..... 
> 
> Moment when you realise you may have bitten off more than you can chew, but I'm going to give it my best! :D Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, only one more to go! I'm amazed you've all stuck with it for so long!


	32. That's Life

_Jack Fish_   
  
_What’s mine:_   
  
_Someone’s touching my things. They’re finding my girls and touching them. They’re mine! Do you hear me, you sick fuck, they’re mine! What the hell is wrong with you?! You don’t go… touching another man’s woman. You don’t go touching another man’s things._   
  
_I… killed those women, they’re my playthings, my property! I don’t just leave them out there for any old bastard to go touching them, they’re for my pleasure and are solely on display for me. Only me. I don’t feel anything for these things… while they’re alive. They’re nothing to me, but simple objects, once they’re dead, however… oh that’s a whole different story. Once they’re dead I can see them for how beautiful they truly are… I don’t just put them in their place, but I show them what they’re supposed to be and I take great pleasure out of every moment._

* * *

  
He’d waited for this moment. Waited patiently and in the shadows, as the sick bastard walked up to one of his latest kills. The man looked angry, irritated and Frank knew why. He’d messed with the body, he wanted to distract the psycho a little bit before he moved in to kill him.   
  
Slowly he moved out of the shadows and glared at him, but he still didn’t take his gun out of his waistband. The bastard probably felt like he was being watched because he slowly turned to face him.   
  
He’d imagined what this man would look like in his head, despite seeing him briefly. He’d thought about extensively, but not as much as he’d thought about how he was going to kill him. That had consumed most of Frank’s sleepless nights. Even getting in the way of him planning his revenge against Ryan for a time. The problem was, he couldn’t reach Ryan, yet, but he could reach this son of a bitch. He was going to kill him and it would be the only death Frank would take any pleasure in.   
  
If you asked someone to describe a monster, they’d probably describe a huge, towering man. Scruffy and unkept, with cold eyes and a crooked grin. Hell, they’d probably describe the splicers to you without even realising them were, but this… thing that stood before him. This monster in a human form looked nothing like that. In fact, there was nothing really remarkable about him, except maybe his dark eyes. Other than that, everything about him was plane. He looked like an everyday guy, which was probably why he was so good at killing people.   
  
“I wondered who it was that was messing with my things,” he said, glaring at Frank, studying him, reminding him for a moment of Suchong and Tenenbaum.   
  
It made him uncomfortable. To this man, he wasn’t even a human being, he could see it in his eyes he was just a thing. An object. That was all he was and all those women and girls he’d killed… they were just objects to him as well.   
  
The killer smirked after a while, looking him up and down. “Wow. I gotta hand it to you.. it’s a good act…” he gestured between the two of them. “But let’s not play around, we both know… that the carefree smile and charming personality is just an act. A good one, but… I can see through you, just like you can see through me.”  
  
“You’re a sick kind of bastard aren’t ya’,” Frank said, not bothering to hide his voice, his anger wouldn’t allow it and the killer didn’t seem to care all that much.   
  
“Takes one to know one.”   
  
“I’m nothin’ like you,” he snarled. “It’s just business. This,” he gestured to the woman hanging on a hook. “Ain’t that.”   
  
He laughed, a hollow sound with no real joy or happiness behind it, only a cruelty. He walked towards Frank, stopping when the man didn’t move, only glared more at him.   
  
The killer gestured around him, looking him up and down. “You see anyone stopping me? Didn’t think you’d be that bothered.”  
  
“Ordinarily, you’d never have entered my head,” Frank admitted. “But you killed someone… close to me. This is personal.”   
  
“Oh, I do love it when it gets personal,” he grinned at him. “You’ll be my first. I’ve never killed a man before, at least not in my preferred way,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Hanging men for Ryan was fun and all… but it lacked… a certain… elegance,” he grinned. “What I do… there’s an art form to it.”   
  
“There ain’t no art in this, you sick son of a bitch.”  
  
“I’m truly sorry you’re so short sighted,” he replied, a smile pulling at his lips. “Though… looking at you now… oh, I can see just what you could be.. if you’d just let go,” he full on grinned at him now. “If you just gave in to your urges.”   
  
“The only thing keepin’ you alive right now is me not doin’ that.”  
  
“Because you want me to suffer. A little sadistic, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
“Justified.”   
  
“Ah, because you’re getting revenge,” he looked amused at him. “Well, let’s not waste any time here, we both have more important things to do… I think I have something special planned out for you…”   
  
Frank reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol, the psycho tilted his head almost robot like and watched him. He didn’t look scared of the gun and Fontaine tossed it to the side. It clattered when it hit the floor, shattering the silence in the room and the killer looked back at him, a grin split his face.  
  
“Oh, this… is gonna be fun…”   
  
Fontaine snarled and charged at him, the other meeting him in the middle and they clashed. Both trading blows on the other. Frank was grateful that Reggie had taught him some boxing techniques when he was younger. He hadn’t had to use them in years, because he’d always ran his mouth, but now he called up those old memories, the only thing that might help him win. The killer was certainly more violent and brutal than he was, but Fontaine had a little more skill on his side. Not that he was using it much, he was angry and the anger was eating away at him.  
  
When he was a boy, people had always been bigger than him. He hadn’t been able to eat much when he was growing, so he never grew very much. Even as an adult he wasn’t what you’d consider tall, he was average, but he made up for that in presence alone. It hadn’t always been like that, however, when he was a boy he got pushed around all the time. Shoved around, tossed to the floor, treated very much like he was nothing but a rag doll for the bigger kids to throw around.   
  
Then came the nuns who would punish him for getting into a fight in the first place. Raising their cane or ruler and smacking them hard across his knuckles and sometimes his back. The ones that were feeling extra sadistic would always go for his back. They’d constantly tell him to repent his sins and say that they were punishing him so he’d get better and become this darling little angel that they wanted to be. It didn’t work, the pain only made him hate them and resent them. He’d go to bed with bloody and broken knuckles that he’d have to set himself and to this day his hands weren’t right. The knuckles especially were damaged probably beyond any sort of repair, Frank knew he was lucky he could still move his fingers at all.   
  
In the end, as the years went by, he didn’t register pain in the same way. At times he couldn’t even feel it, especially on his fingers, it just didn’t register any more. When they first beat him he’d cried and sobbed, asked them to stop, begged them to and even apologised. As the years went by and he got older, he’d cry, then he’d only flinch, then it simply became a wince, at the age of seven he didn’t move at all. His face remained blank and it was only his bloody knuckles and shaking fingers that showed he was in any real pain. The nuns would say he was so full of sin he couldn’t feel the pain anymore, Frank knew it was just something he’d gotten used to.   
  
As life went on, pain became a common place in his life, but it changed. It wasn’t physical, so much as emotional and that hurt. He’d say that hurt more than the physical pain ever did. Still, Frank learned, he adapted. He blocked emotion out after a while, only letting a chosen few in and that list had since got shorten to one person. One little boy who reminded him so much of himself and if he was projecting a little, he didn’t care. The kid was his as much as he was Em’s. They’d both played a part in shaping him and turning him into the survivor he was now. He didn’t know how much he actually owed Frank.   
  
The problem with the kid, however, was the emotional pain was back. Having him glare at him with so much hatred had stabbed him in the gut, in a place he didn’t even think existed anymore. Then Reggie was taken and the pain returned and finally Limey was taken by this bastard he was fighting.   
  
The thing about Frank was, the pain would come and go, quickly replaced by anger. A bitter, burning rage that just ate him up inside until that was all that was left. He remembered a time in his life where he’d been able to find amusement in simple things, in everyday life, but now…? Killing this bastard now would be the first bit of joy he’d felt in a long time.   
  
The killer had smashed his head against the wall, which had dazed him and he soon found a rope around his neck. It got tighter and he’d been able to curl his fingers under the rope to give himself some resistance. He used his elbow to crack the other across the jaw. The killer stumbled away from him and Frank removed the rope, coughing and spluttering a moment. He got to his feet and tackled the man to the floor, his fist coming down on him again and again.  
  
He was shoved off and the psycho tried to get to his feet, but Frank had snatched the rope, wrapping it around his neck and tightening it quickly. His ears were ringing and the blood was pumping quick through his veins. He tightened the rope, pulling harder and harder, vaguely Frank was able to register the bastard struggling and choking, but it was all white noise to him. Muffled, background, it was unimportant.   
  
The tighter his hold became the more he could feel the monster’s life ebbing away. The struggling slowed, so did the breathing, the hands went lip and the eyes stared empty at the floor. Even after an hour, Frank didn’t let go, he tightened and tightened the rope, it cute and tore into the flesh of the monsters neck and finally he let go, his own strength leaving him.   
  
Frank collapsed to the floor, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily, like it was him who’d just been choked to death and not the monster on the floor next to him.   
  
He casted a glance at it, staring for a long time and feeling a smile curl up his face. It was funny to him. Monsters in books had always seemed so much scarier, this one was truly just pathetic in the end. It would probably be the only good thing he’d do in his life and that was enough for me. Being good was over rated anyway.   
  
“Hope ya’ happy, Limes…” he breathed, his eyes falling close. “Don’t worry Reg, I’ll see Ryan dead soon… I promise…”

* * *

  
Em tightened her grip on her gun, following Tenenbaum through the streets. It was now 1960 and Rapture was dead. Everything was on lock down and people, the ones that were left, were hiding away. Those that weren’t hiding were splicers, prowling the streets and looking for an easy victim they could tear into.   
  
Em and Tenenbaum were currently trying to clear out the rest of the splicers that littered their area. She’d even suggested heading to the medical pavilion for some more supplies. They needed more medical supplies so Tenenbaum could treat more of the Sisters. She also wanted to have a closer look at Em’s eye, make sure everything had healed up correctly and like it was supposed to.   
  
Something felt different. Rapture was on edge, you could feel it, almost like it was expecting something to arrive or someone. The war had practically ended, with Ryan seemingly winning. Ever since he’d gotten complete control of the splicers, Fontaine’s days were numbered, but Emilie wasn’t about to count him out just yet. The bastard always seemed to have a back up plan.   
  
Clayton was back at the safe house looking after the girls. He’d stopped going out so much now, he said he didn’t need to. Em wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’d showed her a locket that he’d found. On the back had been an inscription saying _‘there is always light even in darkness’_ , in elegant cursive and inside was a photograph of a woman. She looked like a 1920s actress, a smile on her face and even winking at the camera.   
  
The locket was old, certainly from before the 20s, it felt more like a family heirloom, something that didn’t belong in a despicable place like Rapture. She’d asked him where he’d found it and Clayton had just shrugged, said he’d spotted on the floor and liked it. He even seemed happy about it being or at least looking like an heirloom. Honoured even, like he finally understood something. He kept the locket with him at all times, he had it hanging around his neck under his shirt to keep it safe.  
  
Em heard a noise and paused, glancing only to watch a piece of rubble fall to the floor, joining the rest of it. It really was a shame to see what Rapture had become. It used to be beautiful, she truly had thought she’d found utopia when she’d first arrived. Should’ve known it was too good to be true. There was a lot of things that had happened in Rapture that were all too good to be true.   
  
The city to begin with, the free market, Plasmids, the revolution and of course Atlas.   
  
In hindsight she should’ve seen the Atlas thing coming a mile away, but she supposed you didn’t see something when you didn’t want to. Not until it was shoved right in front of you and there was no denying it anymore.  
  
She hadn’t seen Frank since that last time she’d saved his life. He’d disappeared and in truth, part of her wished he was dead, but she wouldn’t believe that until she found his body. Em wouldn’t even entertain the idea of Fontaine being dead until she was staring into his cold and lifeless eyes. She wasn’t going to deny that she’d find some sort of sick satisfaction out of that.   
  
“You seem distracted,” Brigid said as they walked through the empty streets, being careful to dodge the cameras as best they could. “Is something on your mind?”   
  
“No,” Em said, glancing around the world they lived in, idly stepping over a dead body. “Just the usual. Trying not to end up like that poor sod,” she gestured with her gun at the body on the floor. “You sure we have to go to medical? I hate that place.”   
  
“If we’re careful, Steinman won’t see us.”  
  
“If I do see that bastard,” Em mumbled, her grip tightening just a fraction. “I’ll kill him. He… he’s a monster, I only went there once for supplies and… once was enough.”   
  
Em shuddered as she remembered the place. You couldn’t even call it a hospital anymore, it was more like a torture chamber. A place where Steinman could entertain his grotesque delights. Bodies were everywhere, but she was practically used to that by now. Bodies littered all of Rapture, you just worked around it.  
  
Fort Frolic was completely locked down, it had been for a while, no one was allowed in there. Knowing that Cohen was in charge of the place, however, Em decided she didn’t really need to know what was happening in that place. The less she knew, the better. Cohen had always had a macabre view on art, she hated to think what he was up to now.   
  
Arcadia had completely been overrun with Houdini splicers who had formed some sort of cult. They were lead by Edna or the woman who had once been Edna. She was more going along the lines of high priestess now and Em knew for a fact that she was having the cult kill whoever entered their area that they deemed unworthy. So everyone that wasn’t them.   
  
Neptunes Bounty was overrun with splicers, they wandered every area. Jumping out and attacking. Often they were singing hymns to some kind, a desperate and twisted form of redemption had materialised in their heads. They believed that in killing people they were saving them and their own souls in the process, because they were doing god’s work.   
  
Hephestus, well, Em didn’t even know what the hell was cracking off down there. She hadn’t seen it or been near it in years, she hadn’t even seen her old friends since the New Years attacks. God, she wished she could take that moment back, she wished she’d ran to them and gone with them instead of running to her ‘precious’ Atlas. Couldn’t change what had happened, she could only live with her choice.   
  
Olympus Heights was mostly quiet, not many people were around this area, mostly because Em and Tenenbaum had been dealing with them. Desperately trying to protect the children so the splicers didn’t sniff them out. The place was a shell of the vibrant living conditions that it had once been, but for safety it was certainly the safest area.   
  
Then of course there was Point Prometheus, an area of Rapture that Em hadn’t thought about in a long time. The only part of Fontaine Futuristics that wasn’t boarded up. The doors were still open and Little Sisters were moving in and out of the place. There hadn’t been any new Little Sisters made, of course. The splicers would just steal the ADAM slug rather than put it inside the little girl.   
  
A loud crash sounded above them. Tenenbaum and Em both jumped, running to look out the window. They couldn’t see any debris, but when they looked up at the area where the lighthouse rested, it had a brighter aura surrounding it. Looking almost like a fire. Had a boat crashed into it or something? She wasn’t entirely sure, not like you could tell much from this distance.   
  
“What was that?”  
  
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t concern us.”   
  
“It’s the only interesting thing that’s happened in this place in years,” Em frowned at Brigid. “Everything else is just.. the same.”  
  
“It is probably nothing,” Tenenbaum dismissed. “Now come along. We don’t have time to dawdle.”

* * *

  
Frank sat in his own safe house, a smile on his face. He’d been planning this from the very beginning and now it was finally happening. They were finally in the end game and he’d come out on top.   
  
Looking down at the monitor showcasing the lighthouse, it showed the plane crash and then the lone survivor of that crash, dressed in an obnoxious sweater. Jesus really? The kid was still wearing that thing? He’d worn it when they sent him out of Rapture, of course the genetic freak wore it when he came back. Ugly thing it was.   
  
He watched as his little science project got in the bathysphere and pulled the lever, soon he would be entering this new playground of hell. Frank had ordered one of the only followers he had left, Jonny, to meet the kid at the place, give him a little bit of a helping hand. Lord knows he was going to need it. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t. Frank had paid good money for that living weapon, Suchong had better of done his job right.   
  
As Frank watched and barked orders, sounding as concerned as he could, Jonny, unsurprisingly, did not last long and was brutally murdered by a female spider splicer. Said splicer then decided to trash the bathysphere the kid was in, but thankfully was unable to get to him and then seemed to wonder off somewhere. She probably just in the room, hiding in the dark.   
  
Now it was for the moment of truth.   
  
“Would you kindly pick up that shortwave radio?”   
  
The kid jumped on the camera, before reaching for the radio in the sphere and bringing it up to his face, frowning a little as he pressed the button that would allow him to reply.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
“I don’t know how you survived that plane crash, but I’ve never been one to question Providence,” Frank replied, a grin on his face that he was able to keep out of his voice, sounding like the grizzled Irish revolutionary he was pretending to be. “I’m Atlas and I aim to keep you alive. Now keep on moving, we’re going to need to get you to higher ground.”

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Last time:_   
  
_Fontaine… Frank Fontaine, oh you have hurt me for the last time…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe part 2 is finished! D: Part three will be up soon, though those updates will be weekly because I'm back at work so I haven't been able to write quite as much. I'm also finding it a little difficult, but I'm getting back into my rhythm now! :D
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck with this! I hope you enjoyed it, I've had a blast writing it, but we aren't done yet... oh far from it... 
> 
> ...Stay tuned...

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins...
> 
> Also don't know if anyone noticed this in my last one, but all the story chapters are song titles from around the 20s-50s era or are stylised like they're from that era. Should certainly look them up, they're what I listen to when I write to really get me in the mood! :D


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